


Collision Course

by DiscipleOfBrad



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Professors, Domestic, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Plot, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 115,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25825582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscipleOfBrad/pseuds/DiscipleOfBrad
Summary: A near-fatal crash between two Tardises in the Time Vortex leaves the Twelfth Doctor and Clara, along with the Thirteenth Doctor and the Fam, in an alternative universe where they seemingly lead normal lives. But what other force is at play and why do they keep having visions of being inside an impossible time machine?
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 68
Kudos: 91





	1. Careless

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with Doctor Who! This idea came to me yesterday and I had to work on it straight away. It won't be updated as regularly as previous works since I'm also working on another long story for my GoT fans but expect a new chapter at least every fortnight! This should be a fun one so strap in for a long ride. As ever, comments are appreciated, as well as kudos

The Tardis spun lazily in its natural environment of the Time Vortex, quiet and still, the Doctor instructing it to stay there for the time being. He claimed that it enabled the time machine to regather its strength but, secretly, he often did it to make sure he could spend time with a certain Clara Oswald in between the many adventures that they shared. Running from aliens and evading robots left little opportunity for him to have proper conversations with her, even if he wouldn’t tell her that he wanted to do that. She would look at him weirdly and ask if he was feeling ill and he didn't need that sort of hassle. He presumed that his companion would have already figured out why he did this so regularly, parking the Tardis in a sense, but she didn't say anything about it, which he hoped meant she wanted the same thing. 

Clara was currently sitting on  _ his _ chair (she kept telling him that it was definitely  _ hers _ ), her legs swinging over the arm. He’d told her a few times before that that wasn’t how one was meant to sit on it, in the same annoyed tone he usually used. He was well aware of the fact that she now did it because he’d expressly told her not to. In that sense, she was acting like a little toddler but he was smart enough to not voice that dangerous opinion. The Doctor was busy nearby on the balcony, sorting through the many books on the numerous bookshelves that lined the walls of the console room. His version of ‘sorting’ entailed picking a random, flicking through a couple of pages to see if it was interesting, before inevitably chucking it to the floor. This had been going on for at least an hour, with Clara biting her tongue despite how she kept flinching whenever another pang rang out around them. Yet even her patience after so long with the Time Lord was wearing frightfully thin.

“Will you stop doing that?” she asked with an angry hint to her voice, putting her book down with an exaggerated sigh.

The Doctor looked up from his current crouching position in surprise, frowning at her. “Doing what? I’m having a cull. Need to make room for the next batch of novels.”

“I thought you’d read all the books in the known universe...and some from the unknown regions,” she commented as she stood up, stretching to wake up her tired legs. The Doctor made sure to avert his gaze, even if all he wanted to do was watch. Those were the wrong type of thoughts though, he knew that. So why did he keep having them? He needed a hobby. He could make a companion to his clockwork squirrel; he was sure that he could steal Clara’s radio without her knowing. 

“Don’t be so silly, Clara.” He huffed as she helped him up from the floor, pulling him up by his arms with a roll of her eyes. “The magical thing about books is that a new one emerges every single day. Sure, some of them are total rubbish but not everyone can be the Jacqueline Wilson of their planet.”

“You’ve read Jacqueline Wilson?”

He looked at her as if she’d grown an extra head, something that even they still hadn’t managed to do on one of their misadventures. “Of course I have! Every book at least three times. That weekend flew by.” He started picking up some of the books, hoping to find an example. Clara was busy picturing him wandering around the Tardis as he absorbed the words of the likes of Tracy Beaker. She found that it wasn’t as far fetched an image as she’d first imagined. He shouted out in triumph as he found one, Clara giggling at his gleeful face. She adored it when he was his usual sweet but crazy self, which he mainly saved for her. She would have liked to have spent more time enjoying that aspect of his character but their peace and quiet was disturbed by a sudden and loud blaring alarm, red lights flashing around the main console, bathing them both in a dark crimson hue. 

Immediately turning back into the time traveller of legends, the Doctor ran down the steps quickly, looking at the monitor with a concerned expression. Clara was soon by his side, as she always was, trying to make sense of the symbols flashing up one after the other. Despite not knowing any Gallifreyan (the Doctor had once spent an evening trying to teach her but he’d soon grown annoyed at the fact she kept forgetting the word dog), she could tell that it was nothing good.

“Who parked this infernal machine here?” he barked, moving to flick a random - at least it looked random to Clara - assortment of buttons and switches.

“If you’re talking about the Tardis, then I’m afraid to tell you that it was you who did that.”

“I don’t keep you around to make sarcastic comments when we’re in dangerous predicaments!”

She smiled, regardless of this unknown threat. “Then why do you keep me around?”

He stole a moment to look at her with an unreadable expression. “Well...I…”

He was saved from having to answer as the Tardis gave another thrum of warning, this time lurching to the left with no warning. They just about managed to stay on their feet, the Time Lord still analysing the situation.

“This is an uncharted section of the vortex! No one goes this way, that’s why I put us here. Only an idiot would fly along these parts!” The screen flashed up again, indicating that something was hurtling towards them. His eyes widened at what he saw. “That can’t be. Well, this is just a disaster, isn’t it? Of course, it’d be  _ that _ idiot of all people.”

“Who would that be precisely?” Clara wondered, wondering if they actually had time to be having a conversation. She soon got her answer.

“No time for explanations just yet. Evasive manoeuvres!” He pulled down a heavy lever, the Tardis moaning heavily as it shifted violently to avoid the oncoming threat. The two of them were thrown to the floor, their yells coming out in unison. The last thing they saw was a flash of blinding white light, the origin of which they didn't know, before they succumbed to the encroaching darkness.

**********

Smoke billowed out from the console, creating an ugly black cloud in the circular room. Thankfully, the extractor fans turned on automatically, a handy upgrade the ship had installed since the last time she’d had to contend with a similar situation. The occupants on the floor, recovering from the shock of the experience, coughed and sputtered, shaking their heads as they tried to recover their vision. The Doctor, more used to these scenarios, was the first to stand up, walking gingerly at first before she made her way to the console, her bob of blonde hair much more messed up than usual. She squinted as she tried to make sense of what the scanner was saying, the normally easy task being made more difficult by the fact that her brain was a bit fuzzy. She did manage to get a stubborn crick out of her neck, which left her with a brief satisfied smile.

“Hmm, now that is interesting. That definitely shouldn’t happen. I don’t think it should happen. Or should it?” She stroked her chin with a pout, pondering that question.

Graham, lying on the floor and rubbing his forehead, groaned loudly as he looked up at the yellow honeycomb columns that circled them. He glanced around to make sure Ryan and Yaz were okay, the two being in as much visible discomfort as he was. “Doc...I’m getting used to the way you fly about in this thing and all...but that was something else. You could have given us a bit of a warning. Next time, please remember that.”

“There better not be a next time,” Ryan complained. 

“Yeah, sorry about all that,” the Doctor apologised with a grimace. “I would have told you if I’d known about it in the first place. It’s just typical. One minute, you’re flying an ancient time machine disguised as a police box through the wondrous maze that is the time vortex...the next, you’re almost crashing into someone else by mistake.”

“How can you crash into someone?” Yaz asked in an annoyed tone, joining her by the console. “It’s not like we’re on the motorway or something.”

“It’s a sort of motorway. Except the tarmac is actually the fundamental essence of time and space, tiny particles of explosions yet to happen, that are happening, and have happened.”

“Can you leave the confusing explanations until my brain has settled from the fall? It’s difficult enough understanding you at the best of times.”

“But that’s always the fun bit!” She wasn’t going to get any other response. “Fine. The reason we crashed was because, for some reason, the Tardis didn't pick up on the other ship occupying the same realm as space as we were about to enter. It’s a miracle we didn't collide with them completely. They must have managed to do some evasive manoeuvres just in time. Smart people, I reckon.”

“What does this mean for us?” Graham asked, sitting up one of the steps. “Have we broken down? Do we need a tow truck? Are there tow trucks in space? What’s the number?”

“No, we haven’t broken down,” the Doctor interrupted before he could continue rambling. “The Tardis is just...making sure everything is in order. Then we’ll be on our way as planned. Won’t take long, gang.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ryan piped up, pointing at a tendril of light pouring out from the other side of the console. The Doctor rushed over to it, pulling out her sonic screwdriver. It was expanding quickly, far too quickly for her liking.

“Stay back!” she warned. “I don’t know what this is but it definitely doesn’t look good. The opposite of good. Bad, even!” She was powerless to stop the force from growing until it blinded them all, the Tardis and the console room disappearing from view.

**********

He was distinctly aware of the sound of birds chirping outside, which meant it was time to wake up. John Smith glanced at the alarm clock, satisfied to see that it wasn’t  _ too _ early. Wiping the sleep away from his eyes, he rolled over onto his back in bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment. He had had the most fantastical of dreams, the memory of it slowly disappearing like every other dream he’d had. He was sure there had been a blue box and a rather attractive young woman. He could have laughed. How lonely did he have to be that his brain was now making up people for him to be with?

He went through his usual routine. Walking through his house as the sun filtered in through the windows, his footsteps echoing across the empty landing and rooms he passed. He got a quick shower, his grey curls tumbling down to cover part of his face under the effect of the water. He found the perfect outfit for the day, a tweed ensemble (including waistcoat) with a long grey overcoat. He found the matching hat, a trilby of the same colour, and glanced in the mirror. He was a handsome man for his age, he had to say, even if he couldn’t compare to some of the younger people he worked with. He was content, he was happy, he was ready to get to work. 

He parked outside Saint Luke’s University, a privilege of being on the payroll. The magnificent brick building stood before him, his true home. He spent most of his time inside after all, teaching eager students (some were eager at least) and marking mountains of essays. He’d missed the place over the summer but he always loved the first day back of term. It signalled a brand new era. New students rolling into their first lectures (probably drunk from the night before), new professors nervously waiting to see if they’re liked. Maybe some of them would talk to him, maybe others would be put off by the imposing figure he cut. He blamed the eyebrows for that effect, the grey and bushy attack lines giving him a stern look most of the time. He breathed in the fresh air as he walked under the shade of the trees, believing that today was going to be a very good day.


	2. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Smith returns for the new year at St Luke's University but he quickly realises that the term will be like no other after a chance encounter with a certain new staff member

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Already this is proving to be such a fun story to write. I hope you enjoy and comment below!

The motorbike purred as she pulled into the small car park before she yanked off her black helmet, revealing a wave of light brown hair. She jumped off and saw the destination she’d heard about. This was good. This was a way of stalling herself. No, she wasn’t stalling. Definitely not. Clara Oswald did  _ not  _ stall. She was simply...making a quick stop before she got to work. Her job, the new job, the one she was incredibly nervous about because it was bound to go wrong and she would make a laughing stock out of herself and...she really needed to calm down. She was never like this. In fact, she prided herself on how well she kept herself together at times. It was perfectly natural to have a few nerves - it was a massive step up after all - but she was sure that they would pass. Eventually. Hopefully. 

Trying to put those annoying thoughts to the back of her head for the time being, she walked into the cafe in front of her, a bell tinkling softly as she pushed through the door. It wasn’t too busy, which she liked. She hated going into one of the chain coffee houses where you’d inevitably have to share a bench with a complete stranger. One who usually ate too loudly or spoke too much on the phone. This place seemed perfect for what she wanted. A quiet spot to ease her way into this new life. The way she’d describe the interior of the shop was...homely and comforting. There were a number of small, round tables with cream cloths covering them, some of which were occupied by customers (most of them seemingly a lot older than her). The thing she first picked up on though was the heavenly smell of cooked food emanating from the kitchen in the back. She already could tell that this had been a good choice to make. At the counter, an older, dark-skinned woman had her eyes trained on her. Clara could practically feel the warmth emanating from her gaze. She felt welcome, which she couldn’t really say for the rest of the city. London was a melting pot of vibrant cultures and millions of people; just a little too big for a Northern girl like herself. But this cafe seemed different.

As Clara approached, the woman’s smile grew larger. Her long black hair was tied in cornrows, framing her kind face. She gave the new customer time to look at the menu, written on a chalkboard above where she stood. As a lover of English, Clara had to commend the skills of calligraphy on show.

“Hello, love,” she said. Even her voice was reassuring. It must have been some sort of spell, Clara was sure of it. Or the fact that it was distinctly Northern. It wasn’t something she’d expected to miss that much but the sound of an accent like hers, amongst the strange dialect of the south, was a surprising relief. All she knew was that she really didn't want to leave. “I don’t think I’ve seen your face in here before. And I like to think I know all of my customers.”

Clara was suddenly worried that she’d walked into some strange cult, where only certain locals could actually come in. Was everyone staring at her like she was some sort of intruder? “Oh, I’m new around here. Moved in last week. Starting a new job. The same story you’ve probably heard a million times.” She couldn’t explain why she felt so at ease with spilling these facts about herself.

“Everyone’s story is perfectly unique. Don’t put yourself down.” She made sure to smile when she saw Clara’s cheeks take on a pink hue. “So you’re not from around here? That’s a very strong accent you have.”

“Blackpool. Seems like a million miles away from here.”

“You’ll get used to it. I did. Used to live in Sheffield so I’m just like you. I’ll let you into a little secret.” She leant forward and Clara found herself doing the same. “Everything will work out eventually.”

Clara sighed happily. “I didn't know how much I needed to hear that.” She was thrumming idly on the countertop with her fingers, something the other woman had picked up on. She could easily see how this girl needed a nice chat to distract her from whatever was playing on her mind.

“What’s your name, love? I can already tell you’re going to be visiting a lot so it would be helpful if I knew.”

“Clara. Clara Oswald.” She didn't debate the fact that she’d be returning. Could she just stay here all day and forget about the responsibilities of work?

“A lovely name. I’m Grace. My husband, Graham...he’s in the back, cooking up a storm. He’s got a magic touch with club sandwiches if you’re hungry. Or a fry up.” She pointed over to a man in the corner. “You’ll see they’re a favourite of our regulars. Brian comes in every other day and has one. I make sure to add a few extra tomatoes to balance his diet a bit better.” She sighed. “His boy moved to New York a month ago and he’s been a bit lonely ever since. I took it upon myself to look after him.”

“That’s nice.” Clara looked over at the man in question, who was probably slightly older than Grace. His brown hair was turning grey in places, his face slightly plump but kind-looking. “Sadly, I don’t think my stomach can handle anything right now but I’ll keep it in mind. For when I’m next here.” She allowed a small smile to grow on her face and Grace returned a satisfactory one. “I just thought I’d get a coffee. I heard some people talking about this place and thought I’d give it a try.”

Grace moved over to the coffee machine after getting the precise order from the younger woman. “You’re smart then. This is the best establishment in the capital. if I do say so myself. Especially for weary travellers like you.” She peered over at Clara. “But, actually, I don’t think you’re weary. Nervous, more like. About this new job?”

“It’s my first day at the university.”

“Saint Luke’s?” Grace hummed after Clara nodded her head. “The pride of the area. We get a lot of students in here, the ones who don’t care about drinking and partying. The good ones. Are you teaching?”

“Lecturer of English literature. The previous one had to retire and I applied on the off chance. I was a secondary school teacher before this, near home. This is a...massive step up. I’m starting to think it’s a little too big. I would like to point out that I’m usually more confident than this.” Clara’s joke made Grace smile again, if a little softer than before.

“We all have to make leaps in life, most of which scare us. I was a nurse in Sheffield. Graham was a bus driver. We retired at similar times and decided it was time for a change. But, god, didn't the move terrify us. Yet...we’re even happier now and my grandson loves the city. He’s this big Youtube star, he says.” She smiled mischievously. “He’s actually got about twenty subscribers but I like to support him.” Grace laughed to herself, returning to the actual topic of the conversation. “You’ll be the same as us. You’ll find something you love about being here and you’ll forget about all of these silly worries.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

Clara then noticed that the coffee she’d ordered was sitting on the top in front of her in a to-go cup. She didn't know how long it had been there but felt a small sense of embarrassment. “Sorry. I’ve been chewing your ear off for too long. You’ve probably got a lot to be getting on with. You don’t need to hear about all my troubles.”

“Nonsense. It’s the best part of the job. I love listening to people. It makes you realise how we’ve all got things going on in this world. I’ll be thinking about you and your lecturing for the rest of the day. I hope that I get to find out how it goes.”

“I’ll remember to tell you. Promise,” Clara assured her, handing over the money for the drink, along with a generous tip. “Thanks for the chat!” She walked away with a larger smile than she thought possible less than ten minutes ago, ready to tackle the daunting job.

Just after she’d left, Graham walked in from the kitchen, two plates of food in his hand and an apron tied around his midriff. “Who was that you were talking to for ages? I tell you what, I’d love it if my job was just speaking to people all day!”

“But you’re such a good cook,” Grace complimented him, pinching his cheek affectionately. “I couldn’t take that away from the adoring public.” 

Graham grinned and nodded his head, thinking about the delicious meals he was holding. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“And that was a young woman called Clara who’s starting work at the university. I reckon we’ll be seeing a lot more of her from now on.”

**********

He scribbled on the chalkboard in the centre of the stage as he spoke, enjoying the feeling of being back in the limelight. For an hour or so, a few times a day, he was the most important person in the lives of hundreds of students...and, boy, did it give him an adrenaline rush. As he wrote the six letters down, he smirked playfully, knowing that it was likely they wouldn’t understand what he was saying. But what was the point of being an educator if you couldn’t be a bit confusing from time to time?

“Time,” he boomed in his Scottish brogue, his voice amplified around the lecture theatre. He turned to face the audience of young adults, most of whom were hastily writing down every word he said. They would do well in life. Those who were visibly zoning out...not so much. He wasn’t paid to pick and choose his students though. “And Relative Dimension In Space.” His smile was bordering on the manic side and he was sure that he was frightening some of the newcomers. The first lecture of the term was always his favourite, when he could truly shock his listeners. “It means life!” He paced around the platform, his arms outstretched as his hands gesticulated wildly. He hadn’t realised how much pent up energy he had; it was brilliant to let it all out. This was his favourite part of the introductory lectures he couldn’t remember when he first thought of the word ‘Tardis’ to describe what history was like; it was as if it had come to him in some distant dream and that was all he could remember about it. It was a word that, for some reason, was always on his mind, sometimes in the background, more often than not right at the forefront of his thoughts. “The tale we are about to embark on over these ten or so weeks is not a simple one. If you’re expecting it all to fit perfectly on a neat little line…” He paused as he drew a line in the air. “...then you are in the wrong class, my friends. In fact, history more closely resembles a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey nonsense. And that’s a term I hope to see in all of your future essays!” Some of the audience felt comfortable enough to chuckle quietly. The brave ones. “Sometimes, if I’m nice, you’ll find that some points do follow the template of cause and effect. Yet, more often than not, you’ll have a multitude of events and factors...protests, laws, wars, figureheads...that all lead into a kaleidoscope of consequences. And, if you’re good enough, you’ll be able to piece together which is the most important of those events.” He was at the edge of dais now, still grinning. “But allow me to tell you a wee little secret...no historian before you has ever been able to say which event is the greatest of all time. It’s impossible and arbitrary. In every topic we do, I want you to discover which is the most important thing to  _ you _ .” He pointed into the crowd at no one in particular. Silence descended around the room, all eyes trained on him. “That’s what history is at the end of the day. How we use stories from the past and apply them to our lives so we can continue to grow and thrive. By the end of your time here at this university, if you put your heart and soul into your studies - along with a modest amount of relaxation and partying - I promise you that you will have grown exponentially. And isn’t that exciting, if a little bit frightening?”

He relaxed his posture, wringing his hands. He was glad that he’d taken his jacket off before he’d started talking. He always worked up a bit of a sweat when he got carried away (and he normally ended up doing that). He strolled around for a moment in his white shirt and waistcoat, tapping his chin and silently thinking to himself. “I hope to see most of you in the next lecture. I know some of you won’t be returning but that’s the way life goes. I won’t take it as an insult and you shouldn’t think too negatively of yourself if you do make that decision. For now, I’ll say see you later.”

The sound of bags and paper being picked up and shoved into bags rang out through the air and John Smith turned around to pack up his things. He felt like that went well. Sure, he didn't always strictly talk about history like he was supposed to do but he believed people learned better when you combined topics. He had a reputation for going off track and rambling, which was probably why his course was so popular, according to some of the other professors. He didn't focus on how many people turned up because, to him, it didn't really matter. If he managed to have an effect on even one person every lecture, then his work was complete. That’s why he’d become a professor in the first place...and because the title sounded cool. He woke up every morning feeling as if the world needed him for some reason, that he was much greater than what he felt he was. That spurred him on to make each lecture better than the last. Stagnation was the easy option - nobody benefitted from him thinking he’d reached his best limit so he continued to force himself to be better.

That had had a detrimental effect on his social life, however. Whereas most of the staff he worked with managed to strike a balance between work and  _ living _ , he spent his evenings marking essays, planning talks and reading the latest books around his subject. Some feared that he was lonely. On occasion, he’d think that too. There’d be evenings, as he sat by the fire with a tea precariously balancing on the arm (containing about five too many sugars) when he’d think there was  _ someone _ missing, someone very important. It was like his mind was telling him he needed to find a person to share his life with. He just hadn’t had the time. Maybe when he retired...although he would likely be far too old for dating by then. As he walked through the corridors towards his office, a satchel strewn across his shoulder, he wondered whether that was his fate. To miss out on that side of life, the cost of succeeding in another aspect.

He knew that one person in particular would be annoyed to hear him thinking like that, the woman he was currently walking past. Sarah Jane Smith, always far too chipper in the morning, was his oldest friend (she claimed that meant longest-suffering) and one of the university’s most notorious researchers. She’d written many books on political issues, some of which had gotten her into tight and difficult situations. There’d been a number of occasions where he’d received a phone call in the middle of the night, Sarah claiming she had angered her latest targets a bit too much and she needed some help. He always made sure to be by her side when she needed him, which was why they were so close and why she was so invested in what she called his “dire need to find a woman”. He’d usually laugh her comments off but this was a new term, meaning she’d had months to prepare her next line of attack.

“Have you found the love of your life yet?” she sang in greeting. She was younger than he was by a few years, the lines of life beginning to show on her face. She said she liked them because they told people she’d actually done something meaningful over her years.

“I’m going to give you the same answer I always do,” he replied wearily. “There is no such thing. And, if I did allow you to believe in such ridiculous notions, I’d tell you that any chance of me finding that person is long gone. I’m a wrinkly old coot.”

“Oh, come on,” she moaned as she stood up, forgetting whatever work she was doing. “You’ve had months to go out and find someone. I’ve told you repeatedly that you  _ need _ a person by your side to keep you in check.” She patted his face, forcing a smile to appear on his face. “And, yes, you may have a few wrinkles but so do I and I don’t hear you making any disparaging comments about my appearance.”

“Well...not to your face anyway.”

She scowled and hit him on the arm. “Thin ice, Smith. Very thin ice.”

“You don’t frighten me, Smith,” he shot back, despite the fact that she really did. 

“You know that all I want is for you to be happy.” She was following him now as he strolled over to his office. He let her through the door first, knowing that there’d be no getting rid of her just yet. The room was predominantly covered in a rich mahogany although you could barely see the walls due to the number of posters and certificates on the wall. When students visited for advice, they often felt like it looked more like a dorm room than a professor’s office. That was mainly due to the guitars leaning together in the corner. 

“You need a hobby.” He started rifling through sheets of paper on his desk, late submissions to his classes. He wanted to roll his eyes. There was a strict deadline for a reason so why could students never stick to them? He’d give them a chance though. Sarah would call him soft; he’d say he was  _ curious _ about what those people could bring to the experience.

“You’re impossible.”

“Thank you,” he said with a sarcastic grin.

“I heard your first lecture of the year went down a treat with the students.”

John looked up, running a hand through his silver hair. “How could you possibly have heard that already?”

“Word travels fast around this place. You know that. I’ve also heard that Michelle is wanting you to stick to the actual course schedule and topic lists this year.”

He scowled at the mention of  _ her _ name. Michelle was the head of History, a position he felt he deserved more than her. She’d practically laughed in his face when the news broke. It was more like a cackle really when her thin and sharp face morphed into something that resembled joy. “I think I’ll pass.”

“When are you going to learn to work with her properly? The rare occasions that you’ve both tried to get along, you managed to pull off some brilliant work. You’re not as different as you claim.”

“Have you come here to just insult me?”

“Mainly. It’s part of the job. I place annoying you level with writing my finest dissertation. And my dissertations are  _ sublime _ .”

He knew that was true; he’d read them all. He’d based a few of his lectures on some of them. But he couldn’t exactly tell her that. “You’ve always been so modest.” He scowled when Sarah curtsied mockingly. 

“I’m going to go now and actually do some work, despite how fun this conversation has been. Just please...there’s more to life than work. You’ve got to get out there because the woman of your dreams isn’t about to come walking through that door…”

Fate was a strange mistress at the best of times. John wondered what games the gods were playing when a knock at the door came just as she finished her sentence. The two of them shared a look, John raising his eyebrows. The door creaked open slightly and a head poked through the gap, looking to see if anyone was inside. As soon as he saw her, John was captured. He knew from that point on, there would be no coming back. She was truly the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes; the way her brown hair framed her face, the way dimples formed in her cheeks as she smiled. She was wearing a woolly brown jumper with black pants and he was completely sure that it was the greatest outfit ever invented. There was no point in having those silly supermodels anymore, walking down runways in the latest designer clothes. There would be no topping this. 

“Oh, sorry!” she said nervously. “I hope I’m not...interrupting anything. It’s just, this place is massive and I’m incredibly lost. First day and everything, you know how it is.” She was looking directly at Jon, not ashamed of the fact that she was admiring what she saw. He was tall and lean with the most glorious silver curls she had ever seen. She just wanted to run her hands through them...what on earth was she thinking? She’d only just set foot in this place and was already drooling over one of the other professors. 

Sarah Jane looked between the two of them, waiting for John to say something. He stood there with his mouth hanging open, his brain no longer properly functioning. They were all becoming increasingly aware of the awkward silence that was forming so Sarah felt she’d be kind to them, intervening before it was too late.

“I completely understand,” she said. “This place is a maze. What department are you looking for?”

“English. I know it’s in this building somewhere but the signs are a mess.” She was twiddling with the top of her shirt underneath the jumper. John knew that he needed to tear his eyes away from the sight but he simply didn't have the strength. 

“I’m sure we can help you...I don’t think I caught a name.”

“Oh, yeah! Um...it’s Clara.”

Sarah, picking up on why he was so silent, suddenly had a mischievous look on her face and, if John hadn’t been so enraptured by their unexpected guest, he would have known to start running right there and then. “Well then, Clara...I think John here can show you which way it is. He’ll give you your own personal tour to make you feel welcome.”

“I will?” he asked, perplexed as he came out of his stupor. 

“Yes, you will,” Sarah said, brokering no room for any more discussion about the topic.

“It would actually be a great help. And it’d be nice to have someone to talk to.”

John glanced at Sarah Jane helplessly, debating whether it was still too late to jump out of the window. They were on the third floor though, which would be an issue. But he knew, as he looked at Clara, that he’d never be able to say no to her. “Let’s do this then!” he said with a smile, leading Clara from the room. He made sure to glare at his friend before he left, getting a thumbs up in response.

The first few moments of them walking through the winding corridors was filled with silence again. John was flummoxed; what did one say to an attractive younger woman? A  _ lot _ younger by the looks of things. He debated bringing up the weather but that was just too boring. Eventually, it was his new companion that took the plunge.

“So...your friend said you’re John?”

“That’s right. John Smith, history professor. Some say I’m the best but I’m not one to gloat.” He enjoyed the sound of her laughter; he was already addicted to the noise. “And you’re Clara…”

“Oswald. English literature. The one who’s bound to take your title as best professor.” She had no clue where that confidence had come from but it was worth it to see his surprised expression.

“Clara Oswald,” he repeated. The way he said it was mesmerising, the way he rolled the r’s. “Good name. Oh, and challenge accepted.”

She was enjoying this conversation and his company a bit too much. She just hoped it was a long walk to get to her new office. Clara smiled at him playfully. “I think we’re going to get on swimmingly.”

“I hope so,” he found himself saying before he could think about how it sounded. He prepared for her to be disgusted at the fact an older man like himself was saying such things. She probably had a boyfriend! He hadn’t even thought about that. And he’d no doubt be tall and muscular, able to pick him up and throw him about. He shuddered at the thought. But then her smile brightened and that infernal sense of  _ hope _ swarmed through him again. He was in trouble with this one, he could tell.

“How long have you been here John?” she asked as they continued walking, dodging students who were obviously late for their lectures.

He hesitated. “...twenty four years.” He feared she’d suddenly realise how old he was and be put off. But she didn't seem deterred at all.

“Wow. That’s dedication. I hope I’m here for at least half that time. Being here so long, you’d be able to enact real changes in this place, I bet.” She glanced in his direction, biting her lip. He had to look away immediately, otherwise, he would have never stopped admiring her.

“Is that why you came here?”

“In part. I was a secondary school teacher before. Got the job practically straight after my doctorate. I just...needed a change. But it’s starting to sink in  _ how _ big a change this really is. I’ve hardly ever done big lectures before! I’ll freeze up when I see hundreds of students looking at me.”

He risked patting her shoulder. “You’ll be perfectly fine. I can already tell that you have a passion for the topic. That’s all you need. If you love what you’re talking about, it’ll be infectious. Then that’s half of your job done already.”

“So you have a passion for history then?”

“Oh, aye. People tend to pass it off, thinking it’s not relevant because it’s in the past. I try to tell people that it’s one of the most important subjects to learn because we get to see how our descendants lived and then wonder how they’d react if they saw us now.”

“I know what you mean. I love getting to really understand an author’s mindset when they wrote their books, putting that in context to the age. People don’t realise how much English and history go hand in hand.” She found herself looking at him again, a soft smile on her lips. He grinned back at her; it was innocent and shy and completely adorable.

“That’s how you’ll change the university then, Miss Oswald. You’ll combine the heavyweights of history and english to make the greatest subject of all.”

“I’ll need your help for that,” she joked. She couldn’t tell how much of a joke it really was.

“I’m at your beck and call whenever you need me.”

She was sad that they were now outside of her room, her name painted on the glass in gold lettering. They stood outside, now unsure as to what to say, the awkward silence returning. All she knew was that she really wanted to see again, especially since they seemed to get on well.

“So...this is where I’m based, I’m guessing.”

“It appears so,” he replied, looking at his feet as he shuffled them. 

She thought back to her morning and how much she’d enjoyed going into the cafe. The idea was quick to form in her head. “Coffee!” she practically shouted, making him jump slightly.  _ Too quick _ , it seemed, her mouth not catching up to her thoughts. “I mean...there’s this really nice cafe not far from here. I went in earlier and the food smelled delicious. How about, tomorrow morning, we go in and get a coffee. Maybe some breakfast. We could start planning how we’re going to take over the university without them realising.” She was thankful that she didn't have to wait long for his answer, her nerves building up as soon as she’d finished her sentence.

John couldn’t believe his luck that this beautiful woman wanted to spend time with him. He wasn’t about to turn her down. “That sounds delightful. I don’t have any morning lectures tomorrow so...how does nine sound?”

“Perfect.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook and pen, scribbling something down before ripping the page out. She handed it over to him. “The address. And my number...just in case...you get lost or...something,” she finished lamely. “I’ll...see you then, John Smith.”

“I look forward to it, Clara Oswald.” He smiled before walking off, the grin never leaving his face. As Clara watched him go, she found that she couldn’t stop smiling either.


	3. Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PC Yasmin Khan thinks that the day is going to be the same old boring life she's used to until bumping into an exuberant stranger. Meanwhile, John and Clara both fear that the other isn't going to show up.

Yasmin Khan, junior police officer of the Metropolitan Police, walked the streets despondently, her facial expression making it clear how bored she truly was. It was early in the morning and a week day, which meant she was patrolling her local area as was her assignment. She scowled when she thought of it as an ‘assignment’; it was nothing more than a chore, a menial task to keep her out of the way. She’d complained multiple times to her supervisor (she had lost count of how many times she’d done so), stating that she deserved better work than she was being given. His argument always came down to the same fact; she was simply too young and too inexperienced to handle the more difficult issues - she just needed to be patient and bide her time. Eventually, her wishes would be fulfilled. Whenever he sprouted such nonsense, she’d spend the next five minutes in a toilet cubicle, quietly envisaging the moment she finally proved him wrong. When she solved a big case. Maybe a big robbery or a mysterious murder, one that garnered national media attention. Her face would be plastered all over the newspapers and internet, people would sing her praises and send her thanks. And he would have to apologise, grovelling at her feet. It was the only thought nowadays that put a smile on her face, the prospect of that well deserved satisfaction.

Yaz knew that that wasn’t the reason why she had wanted to join the police. She had seen too many terrible news stories every night of something going wrong in the capital. Sometimes, it would be a blatant injustice that boiled her blood. On other occasions, it would be a gruesome act that left her feeling sick in her stomach. She’d always pictured herself joining Hallamshire police, the local constabulary of where she had grown up in Sheffield. But she had soon realised that her efforts would be more worthwhile in London, where she could bring about  _ real  _ change and do some good. Her family had been far from happy about her decision to move away at such a relatively young age. Initially, her father, Hakim, had flat out refused to give her permission to live so far away, believing that it was the worst place to live in the country. He claimed that something strange permeated around the city, a dark force that poisoned its inhabitants, politicians rooting for themselves rather than their constituents. She’d seen him become engrossed in conspiracy theories before but this was even more extreme (she would have found it funny if it hadn’t been so infuriating).

Thankfully, her mother, Najia, the saint that she was, had been able to make him see sense and acquiesce to her hopes. Her mum had been just as distraught at the thought of her first born leaving the nest so soon but had quickly seen how important it was to her. She’d told Hakim that, if they stood in the way of her, she’d only end up resenting them for the rest of her life. Yaz would be forever grateful for her mother’s acceptance, which had made the move much easier. What had surprised her the most was Sonya’s reaction to her departure. Her sister had broken down into tears when she learnt of Yaz’s desire to leave and move hundreds of miles away. They’d ultimately been able to talk, Yaz putting forward the reason why she  _ had _ to go and why it had to be that time. In the end, they’d sat on the sofa, curled up with one another, watching a cheesy film that they both fell asleep to.

She often thought about her family when she wandered the streets. Although it was a fairly early hour, the sun was out and beating down upon her, her heavy uniform increasing how uncomfortable she was. There was the odd person walking in the same area as her but it wasn’t nearly as busy as it could be. That was a blessing. When there were more people out and about, that meant there were more disputes to deal with, which were always tiring and fundamentally a colossal waste of her time. It was always over some poor piece of parking (one time, a man had punched a hole in someone else’s wing mirror because they’d parked across two spaces) or because they were still drunk from the night before (the amount of times she’d been forced to disband the remaining stragglers of a late night hen party didn't bare thinking about). Every time she had to put up with those annoyances, the dealings she felt were entirely beneath her capabilities, it gave her a stronger resolve to get through it all and continue to work up the ranks. One day, she would be the supervisor, ordering a young recruit to undertake demeaning tasks (she would be more pleasant about it though). She reckoned her family would be happy about her mindset; they hadn’t raised a quitter and a move down South wasn’t about to change who she was.

As she rounded a corner, she didn't have time to react as a woman came barging into her, almost knocking the two of them to the ground. Yaz’s hands instinctively held on to the mysterious figure and she hated herself for instantly thinking about how close they were, their bodies pressed tightly together as they eventually recovered their balance. As she straightened her hat with an awkward smile, Yaz finally managed to catch a look at the other person. Now, she had listened to a lot of her grandmother’s stories about when she had first laid eyes on her husband and how it was most definitely love at first sight. As a young girl, Yaz had been eager to hear all about it, dreaming that, one day, the same would happen to her. For a large portion of her life, she had actually come to believe her fantasies that she would end up bumping into someone who would change her life forever and for the better. Yet, as she grew up, the cynicism that inevitably came with age had eaten away at that positive attitude. She still enjoyed listening to the same stories but she would now take them with a pinch of salt, nodding her head with a sweet smile but no longer thinking it was entirely accurate. There was no way that, on this planet of billions, the same one she had seen create terrible events for no just reason, she would be lucky enough to walk into the love of her life. In the split second of the first look she took of the woman, all those thoughts raced through her head and disappeared in a puff of smoke. And, for the first time that day, she smiled.

She was slightly older than she was but by no means  _ old. _ Her blonde hair reached down to her shoulders with a brown tinge at her roots. She was wearing a strange ensemble of clothing that included a long grey coat and a t-shirt with the colours of a rainbow going across it in a simple pattern. Just from their first interaction, she seemed chaotic...in a good way, Yaz reckoned. She was the sort of person you wanted to know and who you wished was your friend. She realised that she was making up these characteristics inside her head instead of actually talking to her but she had never been that good at talking to new people (that was sometimes a real issue as a police officer). But Yaz found it impossible to talk as she noticed what she quickly rationalised as her favourite part about this stranger: the smile. Yaz could tell she was confused and a little bit dazed but was still radiating an abundance of positive energy. The smile was large and bright and warm and...she was staring too much, she needed to look way quickly. Thankfully, her new infatuation was too busy checking herself over, brushing herself off after their small collision. 

The word seemed to awaken something in Yaz. Her head started blaring and banging, her face contorted into a wince as she gripped her temples.  _ Collision _ . There had been a collision, she knew that. She’d been in a strange, impossible room, one that was far too large and far too extraordinary to make sense. And there had been other people there, people she really cared about but she couldn’t make up their faces in her dazed head. They’d almost crashed completely but they’d managed to avoid that fate. That was all she could remember. How could she remember it in the first place? It hadn’t happened. Of course it hadn’t happened. It was probably the fragments of a dream she’d had once that she’d forgotten about and it was now resurfacing. She really needed a drink. It was probably a  _ bit _ too early for alcohol, especially since she was on the clock. Coffee would have to do for now. She was sure the cafe was around here somewhere; she just needed to get her bearings back after that strange vision.

“Are you okay?”

The concerned voice broke Yaz from her musings and she opened her eyes to see the woman was even closer than before, holding her head as she crouched in front of her. When had she fallen to the ground? Today was proving to be too much for her already but it was worth it for this moment. The woman’s eyes were full of worry as she looked at Yaz, who’d never known someone to be so kind to a person they didn't know. It was a nice change.

“I know I’ve got a hard head but I didn't realise I’d gone into you with that much force.”

Yaz realised that she hadn’t answered the original question so the woman was filling the air with ramblings to avoid any awkward silence. It was, without a doubt, the cutest thing she had ever seen and she knew from that moment that she was in trouble. Her accent was broad and Northern, which would have come as a surprise if she had been focusing on her words and not on the nervous, yet adorable, expression on her face.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Uaz said, waving her away. “I think...it was just the shock of it all. You caught me by surprise. You were going round that corner at quite a pace, you know.”

The woman scrunched her face up at her comment. “Sorry about that. I was in a rush. Got places to be. If you knew me, you’d have a lot of experience of me being late for  _ everything. _ ” She gesticulated a lot as she spoke and Yaz found herself wanting to  _ know _ her as she’d said. “I even set off earlier today to stop something like this from happening. But...I got distracted. Saw these ducks in a river and just  _ had  _ to feed them. Seeds, not bread. Bread can be bad for them actually, which is why I keep seeds on me at all times for occasions just like that.” She reached into the pocket of her coat and revealed a handful of seeds triumphantly to prove she wasn’t lying. She then popped one in her mouth with a grin. She offered Yaz one but she simply shook her head. 

Yaz was grateful when the woman helped her up from the ground, brushing her shoulders carefully and blowing any dirt away. She continued to speak as she cleaned Yaz up, realising what she was wearing. “Oh, you’re a cop!” Her exclamation caught Yaz by surprise, whose head was still reeling from the previous experience. “I’m not going to get arrested for this, am I? Because then I really would be late and that would be a disaster.”

“I’m not going to arrest you, no,” Yaz reassured her with a chuckle. “This was just a happy accident.” Her eyes went wide as she realised what she’d said, her hand promptly covering her mouth and an annoying warmth rising on her cheeks. 

“Happy? I guess it is. It’s not every day that you get to meet someone new.” She grabbed Yaz’s hand and shook it with startling force, smiling even brighter. It was then that she saw the time on her watch and gasped audibly. “Dear me, I’m even later than I thought. I better get going. This was lovely! We should definitely do it again sometime!” And, before Yaz could respond or even compute what was happening, the woman she had grown to be fascinated by was running past her and down the street, her coat billowing in the breeze. Yaz stood there for a moment, watching her go, when the sad reality dawned upon her. She hadn’t got her name.

After making that sobering realisation, Yaz decided that it was definitely time to get some coffee. There wasn’t anything to handle on the streets at this hour so she could waste some time for a change. She didn't want to call it what it actually was - recovering from that chance encounter. The cafe was only a short walk away, in a busier but nicer area of the city. She came here regularly, normally when she wasn’t on duty. It had been like some sort of oasis the first time she’d come across it. It was unusual to meet anyone from Yorkshire in London, let alone Sheffield, so, when she had met the two owners of the shop and had discovered their origins, she had immediately known it was going to be her favourite place in this strange new world. 

The bell chimed as she walked through, taking off her hat and putting a smile on her face. There were a few regulars inside who smiled at her and a bunch of students crowded round a single table. This was as busy as it got really, which made it so perfect. A recognisable older gentleman was at the counter, wiping it down and straightening up the labels. He was bent over, unaware of her presence as he cleaned. She stood there, waiting for him to notice her, with a grin on her face. After a few moments, his head popped up and he had to take a startled step back when he saw her, clutching his chest as he shouted out.

“Now, what did you do that for, Yaz?” he exclaimed in his cockney accent. Graham ran a hand through his greying hair, panting and seething. This was why he rarely came into the front of the shop. People tended not to respect him as much as they did his wife. Well...she claimed that they were all scared of her and he was too much of a loveable rogue. Grace had a knack of twisting reality to compliment him, one of the reasons why he’d married her so soon into their relationship. 

“Because I saw the opportunity to scare you,” she responded with a shrug. “I wasn’t going to waste it.” Her smile brightened when she saw his glare deepen. “Anyway, it’s PC Khan to you. I’m on duty. So there’ll be no getting revenge or any funny business...otherwise you’ll end up in handcuffs and you complained the last time I did that.”

Graham remembered that incident far too well. Grace had thought it would be funny when she had noticed he’d fallen asleep, clamping his arm to the sofa. He’d ended up headbutting his own arm when he’d tried to get up; he had a bruise for days. “Isn’t that...illegal? Abusing your powers as a fine protector of society?”

“Only if you tell my supervisor. And I reckon Grace would be quite annoyed at you if you did that.”

“Yeah...you’re right about that,” he grumbled sourly. “You two need to stop ganging up on me. It’s not fair. I’d try and get Ryan to come to my side but he’s useless and would never choose me over his gran.”

“How is he?” she wondered, having not seen him for quite some time. In truth, the job had kept her from seeing them regularly at all. Her parents claimed that she was married to the job whenever she called them, begging her to have some sort of social life. She’d always say that there was time for that when she’d finished climbing up the payroll. 

“Same old, same old. Still studying at the university, if you can call it that. I never see him with a textbook, notebooks, nothing! He’s usually on his computer. Grace reckons he’s gonna be the next big star and who am I to argue with her. If he does, I’ll want a mention in any awards speeches he does. If those computer people have awards ceremonies...”

Yaz had missed these little conversations, realising that she should make more time to have them. As she looked at Graham, who was smiling as he thought about running on stage to embarrass his grandson, that strange feeling washed over her again. It felt as if she were missing something blatantly obvious and the man in front of her was a part of it. She was sure that it was his voice that she could hear in her head.

“ _ Are there tow trucks in space? What’s the number?” _

It was that mind-boggling room again but, this time, she could see it in greater detail. It was cavernous and dark but she had the feeling that it wasn’t always like that. There was smoke coming from somewhere and they didn't know why it was there. She shook her head, clearing her mind of the images to try and focus on reality, on what was  _ actually _ happening. Maybe her family were right - she was working herself far too hard and it was clearly having an effect on her. 

“Well, tell him to get out more. Say I ordered him to,” Yaz said, pretending that nothing was wrong. “In fact, tell him to pop by my apartment. We haven’t hung out in a while. You all should come round, now I think about it.”

“Grace would love that. But don’t forget you still have a standing invitation to come to ours for tea one night.”

“You have my number. Call me whenever you’re free. It’s not like I have anyone else to spend time with.” That was one of the main points her parents liked to bring up when they talked. They were worried that their daughter was lonely, never talking about any friends or colleagues she was seeing outside of work. Her dad would try to use that fact as a way of persuading her to come home but Yaz pointed out that she didn't have many friends back in Sheffield either. It was a sobering thought. Had she really been working so hard all her life that she had forfeited making proper connections with people? Had she put her priorities in the wrong order. Yaz knew that there were points in one’s life when you made startling realisations that you should have seen a lot earlier, the ones that make you change your attitude in an instant. As she looked back at Graham, seeing how he was trying to reach out to her (not out of some random act of kindness but because he  _ actually _ cared about and liked her), Yaz reasoned that she was going through one such moment. “After today, Graham, I’m starting to see that I need to make a bit more effort.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. It must be hard, being a coppa. Fighting crime, tackling burglars to the ground, sliding over car bonnets.” He matched each comment with a mock action of what he was talking about, Yaz having to stop him before he tried to slide over the counter top as he pictured her doing.

“I think you’ve been watching far too many cheesy cop tv shows. I haven’t done anything like that yet. And I think I’m far away from doing it. Picture it more as breaking up hungover women who haven’t got enough sleep.”

“I have to do that with Grace after we’ve been out.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t there to hear him say that. “Phew. Got away with that one. You can never be too careful.”

“You know what, Graham? I really needed this,” Yaz said sincerely, holding his hands. He looked down at them in confusion, eyeing her carefully. “You’ve cheered me up.”

“It’s what I’m here for. Are you sure you’re alright?” He could tell there was something else bothering her. He liked to think of it as his special skill, reading people. That and poker. He must have been good at analysing people’s faces, looking for their tells. Apart from when Grace wanted something but she wouldn’t tell him what...then he was completely in the dark.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Yeah. Just had a strange experience before I got here. It shouldn’t have shaken me up so much but...maybe I’m tired.”

“Did it involve hungover women fighting one another?”

“This time, no. A woman ran into me, starting talking to me at a million words per second, then carried on running.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad. Let me tell you, people round here have less manners than in Sheffield. No barging into one another and, if they do, they make sure to apologise.”

“She did apologise!” Yaz said strongly, feeling that she had to defend this woman she hardly knew. It was irrational and didn't make sense and yet...she couldn’t fight it. “She was sweet actually. Very pleasant. And extremely…” She stopped herself before she went onto describing her appearance. That would have been embarrassing, mainly because she would have been able to talk for about an hour about it. 

“And you let her get away,” Graham finished knowingly with a smile. “Ah, young love. It’s confusing and impossible but, every so often, everything falls into place perfectly and you run into one another. Fate brought me and Grace together after all. Imagine if I’d had someone else as my nurse...I tremble at the thought.”

“So...you’re saying I missed my chance? What am I saying? I hardly know her! I barely said a word to her!”

“Like I said, it’s confusing. And, if you’re meant to be, I’d bet that Fate will bring you together again. If you’re lucky. There’s no point worrying about it now so stop moping.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice but she was grateful for his reassurances.

Somehow, he produced a cup of coffee from below the counter, a heavenly scent drifting from the liquid. She started at it in shock. Had she really been paying so little attention that he’d managed to make it without her knowing? She hadn’t even ordered anything.

“Just how you like it,” he said. “On the house. A one time deal to cheer you up. Don’t expect this every time you come in here.”

“Thank you so much,” she responded, staring at the paper cup in awe before waving and turning away. Graham grinned. She didn't have to know that someone else had ordered that before she got here. Fate was funny in that way, he thought, as he set about making another cup.

Yaz smiled at an older gentleman who allowed her to come through the door first. John Smith was nervous as he entered the cafe, checking that it was indeed the right one. He’d been pacing outside for a few minutes, constantly checking his watch. He didn't want to be  _ too _ early, otherwise he’d risk looking incredibly eager and he didn't want Clara to know that was the case. He hardly knew what was happening to him. He hadn’t acted like this in...forever! No one had had such an effect on him in such a short space of time. John messed with his hands agitatedly as he went up to the counter, ordering two coffees. He just presumed that was what she wanted. He could always get her something else if she didn't like it. He was definitely over-thinking this. The man who made the drinks tried to start a friendly conversation but John found himself far too distracted to listen properly; he made sure to give an extra tip to compensate for his rudeness.

He found an empty table, sat down and stared at his cup. Maybe she wouldn’t turn up. She would have thought about this properly, how absurd it was for her to be seen in public with  _ him. _ He occasionally glanced out of the window, hoping to see her. Nothing. He checked his watch. Still a couple of minutes early. There was no need to panic. He wished he could have listened to his mind but it was no time to be rational or sane. Was this a date? Of course it wasn’t! This was a professional meeting between two new colleagues. All she wanted to do was talk about their work; she seemed perfectly fascinated by his subject and how it connected with hers. They would discuss that and only that. He started chewing on his finger, a nervous habit he’d thought he’d grown out of. He could leave! He could run away, avoid this potential disaster and make up some rubbish apology. At least then she wouldn’t want to talk to him and she would no longer be on his mind. Who was he kidding? He didn't want that. John found himself wanting to talk to her, to spend time with her. If Sarah Jane could hear his thoughts, she would have laughed and called him a big creep.

He was so engrossed with all the possible outcomes running through his head that he didn't hear the bell chime as a new customer walked in. He didn't notice the woman smile as she spotted him, nervously fidgeting as he waited. He did notice when Clara put her hands on his shoulders to scare him, laughing as he jumped in his chair. With wide eyes and an open mouth, clutching his chest to make sure his heart was still working, he watched as she took the seat opposite at him, grinning far too much. It looked almost...triumphant. Like she was pleased she had got the better of him in a small manner of speaking.

Clara was surprised at how happy she was to see him. She had half expected him not to show up for some reason. He was a seasoned professor after all, one of the star lecturers at the university. He had better things to be doing than wasting time with someone so inexperienced as herself. She had also spent ages trying to pick an outfit, which she told herself was just to look smart on one of her first days, not because she wanted to impress him. She’d chosen a dark blue suit with a black shirt underneath. Clara felt that she looked good but had still been worried that it would be for nothing. She’d turn up at the cafe and he wouldn’t be there. So, when she had spotted John awkwardly sitting through the window, her spirits had been exponentially lifted. She kept telling herself that she hardly knew this man, that it was strange to be so thrilled to see him...but she also knew she simply didn't care.

“Hi,” her jovial voice rang out in greeting. “Thinking about anything good?”

He looked startled at her question, trying to find an appropriate answer that didn't involve him being fixated on her arrival. “Just...stuff,” he finally managed to come up with lamely. He was supposed to be intelligent, not some bumbling wreck!

“Stuff? I didn't know you were so eloquent,” she teased. Clara couldn’t understand how she was so comfortable around him already but she  _ liked _ it. “If you talk like that in your lectures, no wonder you’re so popular.”

“Who said I was popular?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

It was her turn to try and think of a suitable response. Because telling him that, after they’d met, she’d been asking all of the people she worked with about him. He’d think she was a crazy person, obsessed with him or something. “Um...people just talk, you know? It came up in conversation...you know, in the office. Chit chat and all that.”

“Did it now? How interesting.” John was smiling now, seeing how uncomfortable she was. He took it as a good sign that she was somewhat intrigued by him. “How was your first day?”

Clara was grateful that he changed the topic, afraid her face was going bright red. “Hectic. Busy. Chaotic. All the synonyms. I knew it would be a handful but...I didn't even have a lecture yesterday and I was basically a puddle when I got back to my apartment. Just collapsed onto my sofa.”

He chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. Hopefully. I can give you some advice if you ever need it.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer. If it means we get to do this again.” She was brave enough to add that last part, hoping she wasn’t pushing her luck.

John was just stunned, realising that there would be  _ another _ time. He was definitely dreaming. “Of course. I got you a coffee. Didn't know how you liked it so I...took a guess.”

She sniffed the drunk and smiled affectionately at him. “It’s coffee. I’m going to drink it whatever type it is. I basically run on the stuff in the morning. Thank you. I’ll give you the money back.”

John immediately held up a hand. “There’s no need.” He could tell she was about to protest so he thought of a way to defuse her indignation. “You can pay for the drinks next time.”

For some reason, Clara found herself looking down at the table with a shy grin, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” She took a sip as she peered at him, making him practically wilt under her questioning gaze. “I’ve got to know...what brought you to London? You’re just so... _ Scottish.” _ She attempted to do the accent, knowing that it was terrible but not caring one bit.

“I don’t walk around here with a kilt, playing bagpipes! Just because I have an accent…”

“It is such a Scottish accent though. I’ve never heard someone sound so Scottish.”

He glared at her, sighing in an over the top fashion. “If you must know, I was simply a young man who was bored and a little bit too curious about the outside world. My home town is beautiful and quaint, right on the outskirts of Glasgow but it was small. I wanted something more than that and London sounded so exotic at the time. I’d just finished my university degree so, on a whim, I packed my bags and got on a train. I was lucky enough that St Luke’s was looking for someone, otherwise I might have had to become a street performer.”

She laughed at the thought. “Would you attract a crowd though, that’s my question?”

“I’m quite handy with a guitar, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, so you’re a wannabe rockstar?”

“Who said anything about wannabe?” he shot back with a wolfish grin. Where was this courage coming from?

“You’ll have to perform for me sometime. I’ll challenge you to a rock-off.”

“You play as well?” He was leaning forward now, his interest piqued.

“I dabble. Guitar, piano...I used to be ace at the recorder in primary school.” She winked at him, pretending to be big headed and egotistical. She couldn’t hold it for long, bursting into laughter that he found was incredibly infectious. “You sound just like me, by the way. Blackpool was just the same, far too small to contain me.” She held up a hand to stop him from making a comment about her height. “The university was hiring, I applied, and here I am. My family weren’t too happy about it but my Dad’s been seeing  _ Linda _ for quite some time now so I reckon he will have hardly noticed me not being there.”

John held up his cup. “It seems that we have a lot in common, Miss Oswald.”

Clara brought her up to his, playing along. “That says a lot more about you than it does me.” 

They carried on talking for a bit longer, staying for another coffee, not wanting to be dragged away by the call of their jobs. But they made sure to walk back together, constantly talking, getting to know one another. John soon realised that they had hardly mentioned work after all.


	4. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two surprise arrivals are the perfect gifts for Clara and Yaz

Clara bit her lip nervously as she messed with the laptop on her desk as students waded into the lecture theatre. She wasn’t actually doing anything on the computer, simply using it as a means of distracting herself. It wasn’t very effective though as she constantly had to look up, only to be met with the same sight: more and more people pouring into the room like a dodgy leak. She hadn’t expected the course to be quite so popular (she probably should have looked at the enrollment list, now she thought about it). Those damn nerves were playing up again. Clara had never thought of herself as someone who got so agitated - this new job was making her second guess those presumptions. She closed her eyes for a second, seeing it as a perfectly natural reaction since it was her first lecture after all. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of. She reckoned John would have acted the same, however many years ago he had started in this line of work. Clara was more annoyed that she hadn’t thought of asking him for any advice during their morning coffee ‘meeting’ the other day.

The memory of it was the only thing that had managed to put a smile on her face so far that day. It had been so easy to talk to him. They discussed everything under the sun, they had a laugh, shared a few warm looks. If she had been insane, she might have seen it as a sort of date. It was lucky that she had never been fond of being sane (that was entirely far too boring for Clara Oswald). The following night, as she sat in her apartment, realising how empty it was with just her in it, she had contemplated calling him. She had managed to get his number as they’d walked back to the university - that had taken a lot of bravery on her part. John had been only too happy to give it to her, which she saw as a good sign. Yet, as she had looked at the infernal device and the sight of his name on the screen, she’d chickened out and chucked her phone away, focusing on whatever rubbish was on tv instead. 

As she stood in front of the rows of students, she was even more disappointed in herself as she wondered what he’d do in her place. He was so full of charisma he’d probably just say something naturally funny and win them over straight away. She didn't have that on her side. Clara thought about the old trick of pretending everyone was nude to ease her concern but quickly realised how weird that was with most of her audience being much younger than she was. She shook her head to get rid of the idea. She occupied herself by flattening her dress down, a piece of clothing adorned with a floral pattern. It was one of her favourites since it seemed slightly old fashioned (especially when she looked at the things some of the people were wearing in front of her) and she saw herself as some form of old soul. She could only flatten her dress so much and was soon left wondering the usual questions. Would they like her? Would they all quit English because of her? Would it go so terribly that the university saw that it was best to get rid of her, leaving her to be alone in London with no money and no prospects? Okay...maybe that last one wasn’t a usual question. She was just overthinking it.

But then she caught a sight of grey hair, a large curly mess that she recognised. But why would she be seeing it now? She was probably hallucinating, her brain trying to comfort her with a reassuring sight. She focused on the hair, trying to see if it was  _ him. _ Clara couldn’t believe it when she spotted John’s smiling face. She saw herself as a person who smiled a lot, or at least a normal amount. But, when she saw him, she knew she had never smiled so brightly or so affectionately. What was that daft old man up to? He was sitting down amongst the students, towards the back of the theatre. He gave her an encouraging thumbs up and the simple act seemed to make her worries disappear. She took another calming breath, quickly glanced in his direction again, and coughed to get the attention of the class and quiet them down.

“Good to see that most of you made it here somewhat awake. My name, if you don’t already know, is Doctor Clara Oswald and I’d like to tell you about someone very close to my heart...Jane Austen.”

After the lecture, she couldn’t contain how giddy she was as she milled about at the front of the lecture theatre, a beaming smile lighting up your face. It had gone even better than she’d dreamt, spurred on by John’s silent support. She’d made jokes, rolled off facts about her favourite author and, she hoped, had enthused people with a hunger for the subject. Clara was practically walking on air. She knew that every day wouldn’t be like this. There’d be times where she’d think she could have done better but, for now, she could allow herself to be positive. 

“My, my,  _ Doctor  _ Oswald,” a deep voice sounded behind her, making her jump as she tidied stuff away into her bag. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before? You must be a natural.”

Clara spun around to see John standing with his arms folded and a smirk on his face, leaning against the board in a black suit with a purple shirt. He probably thought he looked smart; she thought he looked more like a magician. She was starting to think she  _ liked _ magicians. “Thank you so much, John. I was so worried about this but then I saw your face and...yeah. Thanks. I’m very tempted to give you a hug but I don’t want to scare you off.”

He didn't voice the fact that he would have been perfectly fine with her doing that. “All I did was sit amongst the hordes of students who were listening to your every word.”

“Still...I needed it,” she reaffirmed quite shyly. “Made me smile.”

“Then my job here is done. I like seeing you smile.” His eyes widened after he said that, looking anywhere but at her, not seeing her devilish smirk. “I mean...um...it’s good...when you smile...because it...means…”

Taking pity on him, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know what you mean.” She laughed again when he let out an embarrassed breath. “I thought you’d be too busy to watch me teach.”

“I had a free period. Don’t tell Michelle because I probably should have been marking or planning my next few lessons.” He tapped his nose with a smile.

“Michelle?” she asked as they began to leave the room, swinging her handbag over her arm.

“My  _ superior _ . If you see a woman walking towards you with a sharp face and a sour expression, turn around and run in the opposite direction. It’d just be best for your mental wellbeing.”

“Right. Noted.” She nudged him gently with her shoulder. “I’ll have to go to one of your lectures now. If you’ll have me. I’d like to see how the  _ master _ does it.”

“I’ll make sure to keep a seat open for you. I’ll put tape on it - ‘property of Clara Oswald’.”

She liked the sound of that. “So...did you learn anything today?”

“That you have a massive crush on Jane Austen?”

“I do not!” Clara exclaimed loudly, a pink hue colouring her cheeks. Why did she suddenly feel so warm? “I just...have an appreciation for the work she did, that’s all.”

“Is that the young kids call it nowadays?” John joked, managing to dodge her indignant attack.

She let out an annoyed huff, before realising that it was an opportunity to tease him. “So what if I do? To me, it sounds terribly like you’re jealous.”

He was sure that his heart stopped at that moment. He risked a glance at her, seeing her smile. But there was something else there. Uncertainty, an eagerness to hear his response...as if she really wanted to know how he felt about  _ that _ . He composed himself before speaking. “How could I be jealous of someone who’s been dead for hundreds of years?”

Clara rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“Oh I know.”

“It makes me think you’re avoiding the true question,” she proposed.

“Maybe I am. I wonder what you’ll make of that.” And, as they continued to walk along the corridor, Clara did think about it and couldn’t stop the small smile spreading on her face as she did so.

**********

Yaz straightened her light brown leather jacket, making sure her red and black chequered shirt had no creases. The sun was idly setting in the sky, basking the surroundings in a warm red hue. She stood outside the front door of a small cottage, surrounded by tall plants and covered in moss. She’d been here a few times but it never stopped amazing her how beautiful the home was. She’d asked Graham and Grace one night how much it had cost them (she knew too well how expensive property was in the capital) - all they’d said was that it had come as part of some distant relative’s will, one of the main factors that had driven them to moving to London in the first place. Yaz silently had thought it sounded too good to be true but, before she could ask any further questions - such as how they had such a rich family - her mind had brought something else up and the matter had been forgotten. Looking at the old building now, admiring its quaint brickwork, she should have been able to think about it more but instead thought about what had led up to that moment.

After her brief meeting with Graham, she’d received a few texts from Ryan, along with a couple of calls from Grace, asking if she wanted to come over for tea (the phone calls had been worded more along the lines that her going was not up for debate). It seemed that the cafe chef had said she’d appeared lonely, prompting them to send out the invite. She’d accepted without much thought. There was no reason for her to say no - she was growing to love this family and it wasn’t as if she had anything to do. There was that desk from Ikea that needed building but that had been sitting in the corner for a few months now, gathering dust. To be fair, it worked well as a desk within its box so she’d seen no point in putting any effort in. Graham had been right though - she guessed she was lonely. Outside of work, she hardly did anything. She mainly tried to do  _ more  _ work in the vain hope of impressing her supervisor - so far, it had proved frustratingly lacking in results. It was the only explanation as to why she had reacted so oddly when she’d bumped into that stranger. If she hadn’t been so touch-starved and craving human contact, she wouldn’t have been thinking about the incident whenever she had a free moment, replaying it over and over again. She kept seeing that smile and the warm eyes staring at her. The sight of her running away, Yaz being stupid enough to let her go. The evening after, she’d shouted into a cushion since she’d been so annoyed with herself before realising how pointless an action it was. She also feared what the people in the adjoining apartments must have thought about the noise. 

She knocked on the door and hardly had to wait any time at all for it to open, Grace greeting her with a wide smile. She beckoned her in, wrapping an arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “Oh, Yaz. It’s good to see you. It’s been far too long. When Graham told me you’d popped into the shop the other morning, I shouted at him for not telling me sooner!” 

Yaz had forgotten how talkative the older woman could be, just nodding her head. She knew it was best to simply listen at first until she left an opening for you to speak.

“And you’re punctual as always. That’s a very good quality to have in life. If only Ryan had an ounce of that.” She shook her head. “Maybe if you have a word with him at some point tonight. He listens to you more than he does me and Graham.”

“It’s my police training,” Yaz explained. “If you’re even remotely late, they’ll put you on the graveyard shift. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

“How is it going with the job?” She had heard many times how annoyed Yaz was with work, not liking to see her so frustrated. “Any improvements since we last spoke.”

“I wish. I feel like my boss is purposely avoiding me now most days, just to avoid me asking for better opportunities.”

They walked through the house towards the back, heading for the kitchen. The building still smelt the same - a faint hint of vanilla amongst the aroma of the many plants that were set up on small tables and windowsills (most of them were adorned with little ceramic frogs in their pots, Yaz previously learning that Grace had a strong fondness for the amphibious creatures). As she was guided by the surprisingly firm arm of her host, Yaz idly wondered what her home must have smelt like. Probably empty take away boxes and a cheap air freshener she’d bought from the local corner shop. 

Grace gave her a comforting look, patting her on the arm. “It’ll get better. You can’t give up. You’ve put too much effort in to do that now. Mark my words, if you keep pestering this bloke, he’ll eventually give in. All men have the same weakness - they’re not as strong willed as us women.”

Yaz chuckled lightly before they were disturbed the loud noise of footsteps running down the stairs. Ryan Sinclair was a strapping young man, always popular with the ladies even if he didn't boast about it (his gran had made him respect women far too much to do that). Dressed in a simple white top and grey chinos, he smiled widely when he saw that it was Yaz who had arrived. She hadn’t believed her eyes when she’d first seen him in London, having known him from primary school. The chances of her first meeting his family before finding out it was, in fact, his family were astronomical. She passed it off as luck when, in reality, she should have seen it as a blaring coincidence that was too good to be true. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, they shared a quick hug, Ryan having to shove Grace out of the way to do so. He towered over both of them, which he liked to remind them of constantly. 

“Yaz! Long time no see, you. What’s kept you away?” he said in quick succession as he caught his breath. “I told gran that she’d scared you off with the lasagna last time. No one wants that many mushrooms.” He didn't even try to stop Grace from whacking him on the head for the insult, the smirk never leaving his face. 

“Saying that is just going to get me in trouble and you know that!” she complained good naturedly.

“Which is exactly the reason I said it. It’s the price you pay for going missing for months.”

“Work is just...work. You can moan at me when you start a job. And no, Youtube is not a job...before you start saying it is.”

He pouted as he had been about to say exactly that. “University takes up my time just as much. You need to get a life, Khan. And who better to teach you the ways of socialising than an actual pro like myself?”

“When was the last time you went to a party?” she wondered, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

“...that’s not the point. The fact is that I get  _ invited _ to a lot of parties. I’m just...selective in the ones I choose to go to.”

“I’m too old for parties.”

“Too old?” he blurted out. “You’re the same age as me!”

“Exactly. Maybe I’m trying to tell you something, Sinclair. Grace here thinks you should listen to me more. You’re not going to argue against her are you?” 

“Now, now,” she chided, clicking her tongue exasperatedly. “I’m taking no sides.” She pinched both of their cheeks, making them frown and roll their eyes. “Let’s just be happy that Yaz made it now and we can have a good night.”

They moved from the staircase into the dining area, a pot cooking and the oven humming in the nearby kitchen. Graham was sitting in the corner on a comfy-looking armchair, engrossed with a documentary about old cars on the television. He absentmindedly waved over at Yaz as they came in. Grace threw a newspaper over at him to make him stand up and properly greet their guest. He grumpily stood up, turning off the tv (after making sure to record the programme for later viewing). He was wearing a smart blue polo shirt with brown pants. Graham stood by Grace, pecking her on the cheek as compensation for his apparent rudeness. 

“Bang on time. Told you she would be,” he bragged with a smug smile. 

“Are you not cooking tonight, Graham?” Yaz asked, looking between the couple.

“We have an unspoken rule in the house. Graham cooks at the cafe, I cook at home. It keeps things interesting,” Grace informed her, nudging her husband. “There’s only so many things he can make properly anyway.”

“I don’t hear the customers complaining about that,” he shot back.

“Mainly because I’m the one who talks to them, not you.” 

Ryan patted his Grandad on the back with a sigh. “You lost that one, Graham.”

“I haven’t won one since we started this relationship!” he moaned.

He got a kiss on the cheek from Grace, who was smiling triumphantly. “And that’s how it should be.” She looked over at Yaz, who was enjoying their familiar interactions. “You can grab a seat at the table. We’re not fussy about where people sit. We’re just waiting for our other guest tonight.”

Yaz was part way through sitting down when she heard that. “Someone else is coming round? I didn't know that.”

“An old friend of mine from my hospital days. She was only young when she left for London but I reached out when we moved here. You’ll love her.” As if her words had some magic power, the doorbell chimed, ringing throughout the house. “That’ll be her. I’ll go get her.” Grace hurried off, buzzing with excited energy, leaving the others to get comfy. Graham sat at the head of the table, Ryan choosing to take the seat opposite and to the left of Yaz. 

“Were you in university today?” Graham asked his grandson, struggling to remember whether he’d seen him at all that day.

Ryan gave him an offended look. “I’ve been in the same house as you all day! I made you a sandwich for lunch!”

“Well...it probably wasn’t that good a sarnie if I’ve already forgotten. I need to train you in the fine arts of sandwich crafting.”

“I don’t know why I bother sometimes,” the disgruntled young man grumbled. “You must love it, living on your own. You get to have all the peace and quiet you want. I can’t wait to move out.”

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” she chimed in. “It may sound idyllic but you don’t half get bored. And so lonely at times. Independence isn’t as perfect as it sounds.”

“And...you could have moved out into student housing, I’ll remind you,” Graham pointed out. “But you wanted to save some money and keep being fed.”

“...I shouldn’t have opened my mouth.”

“That’s right,” Yaz laughed with a bright smile. “It took you long enough to learn that...lesson.” She finished the sentence off as an afterthought as Grace guided in the mysterious guest. Yaz’s brain, to use a technical term, shut down completely, leaving her mouth wide and gaping as she stared at the figure. Wrapped in a luxurious light blue suit, her blonde hair made to be even curlier than usual, was the woman Yaz had been hung up on for a number of days. What was this world doing to her? It was one thing to bump into this  _ goddess _ on the off chance...but for this to happen as well? She was either the luckiest woman alive or a cruel joke was being played on her, someone hoping she was going to make a fool of herself (the way she was acting, that was a very distinct possibility). She looked even more beautiful in this setting, that hectic character somehow being the same person as this glamorous woman. Her lips were painted red, contrasting against her hair and the white teeth she was showing off as she smiled. She was also taller (Yaz felt slightly embarrassed that she could tell that was true from just a look - she was bordering on being obsessive).

The woman’s smile turned into a look of shock when her eyes finally landed on Yaz, who was still unashamedly staring. “It’s you!” she blurted, stunning the others. “The police officer!” 

Yaz could hardly compute that she had remembered her. Grace looked between the two before sharing a confused look with Graham. “You...know each other?” she asked with a bewildered tone.

“Not...really,” Yaz answered, somehow finding the ability to talk. “Remember I told you about running into a woman, Graham?” 

He nodded his head before realisation dawned. His eyes widened and he pointed his finger. “You mean...the woman you said you li…”

She gave him a hard glare, stopping him from finishing the incriminating sentence. “Yes! Yes. That’s the one. It really is a small world.” The woman leant forward, offering her hand. Yaz took it as she stood up, trying not to focus on the feeling of electricity as their fingers intertwined. She would have preferred a hug but the infernal table was in the way and she doubted her legs could work properly at the moment. 

“I’m still sorry about that. I had a meeting that I had to get to. I know, incredibly boring and decidedly  _ not _ me. But it has to be done.”

“I understand. I didn't mind. You’re not that heavy.” Did she honestly just say that? She hated herself. She actually, undoubtedly hated herself, her mind and her mouth. 

“Such a flatterer. I bumped into the right person it seems.” For some reason, she had found her comment endearing. This was too good to be true. “Wait! You don’t even know my name! How rude of me! You can’t run into someone and  _ not _ trade names. What must you think of me? I’m Jo. And you’re…”

“Yasmin. Yaz. Everyone calls me Yaz so...Yaz it is.” She was rambling and fumbling for words and yet  _ Jo _ wasn’t running away or looking at him as if she were an alien. She felt the name somehow suited her. She was a Jo. It was a fun name, didn't take up too much time so you could get to the proper conversation faster. She decided that it was now her favourite name in existence.

“It’s good to finally meet you properly, Yaz.” It was then that they noticed the others had been silent during their short conversation, looking at them in bemusement. Ryan was chuckling to himself as he saw his friend fumble, quickly picking up on the reason. As they began to sit down, Yaz picked up on his silent amusement and glared at him, mouthing the words ‘shut up’ to him. Grace placed a large dish in the middle of the table, Graham bringing smaller plates over with side dishes. It smelled divine and she knew why they were such a good couple when they could both cook so well. It was just a shame that she could hardly concentrate on the meal or the beginnings of the idle chit chat that had started as they tucked into their food. Jo was sitting directly across from her, as if they wanted to mess with her head even more. Yaz kept looking up from her plate to check if she was still there, to see if she was actually real. On a few occasions, she swore that she had caught Jo doing the same. When that happened, they’d smile shyly at one another before continuing eating. 

The conversation wasn’t anything thrilling. Grace and Graham discussed the odd things that had happened that day, the strange orders they’d received (fish and bacon toast had made them almost tell a customer to leave and never come back). Ryan talked about the latest video he was making, an in-depth look into the pressure students went through and how they often chose to stay quiet. Yaz had been pleasantly surprised about that, never realising that the topics he covered were sometimes so heavy. She’d half expected him to be pulling pranks or making extravagant edits; she was proud of him, to see that he had grown up more than she had given him credit for. Yaz was then forced to talk about her work under the insistence from Grace - she was pleased to see that Jo appeared to be incredibly interested in the topic, asking questions and listening attentively. 

Yaz’s favourite part of the night though was when the spotlight was on Jo since it gave her an excuse to look at her and not feel weird. It turned out that Grace’s former co-worker had moved to London to help start a brand new hospital in the capital, the  _ Royal Hope _ . She seemed enamoured with the work she did and the help she gave out. The position, Yaz had to say, was at odds against her character. Jo was bubbly and fun, a little bit chaotic at times. Her laugh was loud and infectious. She kept reaching across the table, touching Yaz on the hand as she spoke. Yaz could hardly picture her doing such a serious job but she had complete faith in her abilities (despite not having any experience of how she operated).

“I was the first doctor signed on. They took a real chance on me and I’m so grateful they did. Oliver claims he’s the first one they put on the payroll but I have facts on my side. I tell him, I’m  _ the  _ Doctor, the original you might say. He hates it when I do that, which makes it even more fun.”

Yaz’s heart shattered. It sounded as if she was close with this  _ Oliver _ , who she hated with a passion. “Oliver?” she tried to ask calmly, not conveying her inner turmoil.

“He’s a friend. Well, also my enemy and arch rival but that goes with the territory. Everyone calls him O. He was already in London before I got here. It makes his blood boil that I just walked in.”

Yaz’s head started throbbing. Something about the name ‘O’ had resonated with her. She had no idea why. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She was faintly aware of someone asking if she was okay but she couldn’t answer. She was remembering a plane. Was it crashing? Moments flashed through her head at a nauseating pace. That room again. She was talking with someone, smiling. She felt such an overwhelming sense of warmth and love that was foreign to her. Then there was only fear as she tried to cling onto something...someone. They were falling, tumbling, crashing. There was smoke. As she sat at the table, she couldn’t see how worried the others were as they rushed to her side. She didn't see Jo checking her over or the concerned crease that formed on her forehead. All Yaz could see was darkness.


	5. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on their Tardises, the Doctors struggle to explain what is happening before an old foe makes himself known

The first thing her eyes picked up on as they opened was a warm yellow glow in the distance that was framing someone leaning over her. As Yaz’s eyes slowly focused, she was happy to see that it was the Doctor who was checking on her, a relieved smile on her face when she spotted that her companion was waking up. As the Doctor gently helped her sit up, Yaz was overcome by the sense of nausea that came with a painful headache. Such as the one she was suffering with right now. She gripped onto the other woman’s arms tightly as she steadied herself, breathing slowly to help bring about a sense of calm. They were in the Tardis, which was a relief. But its natural colours were darker than usual, the yellow of the arches that she’d first seen paler than she’d realised. The console itself was intermittently blaring an ugly red colour, something that rightly told her that the situation wasn’t a good one. She had known that already though. She could tell just from the Doctor’s look. The Time Lord seemed to pride herself on the her ability to hide her true feelings (they usually liked to complain that they could tell she was usually keeping secrets from them) but Yaz believed she was one of the few people - maybe in the entire universe - who could pick up on what was bubbling under the surface. It was the eyes, appearing calm but betraying how she was truly feeling. The Doctor was trying to focus on Yaz, to make sure she was okay, but she was also preoccupied with finding the cause of the problem. And, if she didn't know the reason behind all of this, then it was even graver than Yaz had anticipated.

“There we go,” the Doctor said quietly as she kept Yaz in an upright position. “Do you think you can sit up on your own now?”

Yaz nodded before picking up on the pink blanket that had been wrapped around her shoulders. She couldn’t remember getting that, which surely meant the impossible woman in front of her had done it. It caused a warm sensation to run through her body, getting to see an example of how the Doctor cared for her, even if she didn't voice those sentiments too often. Dragging her attention away from that for the time being (she would definitely be thinking about it later), she was relieved to see that Ryan and Graham were perched on the hexagonal steps off to the side. The former was rubbing his head with a confused expression on his face whilst the latter was simply sitting there, looking off into the distance with a despondent demeanour. The Doctor had moved back to the console once she knew Yaz would be fine, making small frustrated noises as she looked at the monitor. She thwacked the machine in anger, immediately regretting that action as she rubbed her hand. 

“What happened to us?” Yaz asked. She felt strong enough to stand up now, using part of the Tardis as leverage. 

The Doctor’s face was dark and brooding, something that had been happening far more frequently over the recent months. “There was a crash. Well...I say there was a crash. We avoided the crash. In the main. Maybe a little ricochet but that’s all.”

“We know all that already. That wasn’t what I was asking.” Yaz picked up on the fact that the Doctor seemed to know that and had wanted to avoid the true question. “I was in London. I was working as a police officer. And all of you lot were there but...it was normal! We were living lives as average, everyday people. Even you!” She pointed at the Doctor. “It was if we hadn’t ever met. A different world. But how’s that possible? Was it a dream or something?”

“I don’t know.”

“That has to be it. We crashed and I...banged my head and had a lovely...but weird dream. Nothing to worry about.” She was trying to make herself believe it even if it had felt achingly  _ real _ . 

Ryan looked at her curiously from where he was sitting. “Were you coming over to tea at our house?”

Yaz’s hands started to shake in fear. “...yeah. How do you know that?”

“Because I was there too! No...this is too freaky for me. Are we all sharing dreams now? Because, if we are, I think it’s time that we spent some time apart.”

The Doctor hadn’t said anything, which was growing to annoy Yaz. She was the one who was supposed to explain these things. They were relying on her as they so often did. “Did you experience it too?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice sad and drained. “I ran into you on a street corner. We had tea together. Dear me, I was a  _ proper  _ doctor. That’s just not right. My license to practice medicine must have expired by now.” She patted down her jacket to try and find said license, to no avail. She pouted when she didn't succeed.”

“So we all had the same dream?” Ryan repeated, looking to get some form of confirmation. His head was spinning from the possibilities, despite it not making any sense. He was growing to expect that when he travelled in the Tardis.

“It wasn’t a dream.” The Doctor’s tone was sharper now, an element of anger seeping through. “What we went through, that was definitely real. In a sense. At least, we couldn’t have all made it up. The chances of that happening are astronomical. If I had a free hour, I’d probably be able to work out the odds. No - that was a reality. Not the one that we live in. A distorted reality.” She rubbed her forehead in a slow circle. “But that’s simply not possible. That doesn’t happen by accident.”

“So you’re saying we were in a parallel world?” Yaz proposed, proud that she’d even known what one of those was.

“No. I’ve been in my fair share of parallel worlds and, trust me, you know when you’re in one. And you can’t just flick between two universes like we just did in a blink of an eye. Maybe something went wrong when we nearly rammed through that other object in the Time Vortex.” She was messing at the console again, bent over. “Well, of course  _ something _ has gone wrong. But what? Come on, old girl. Give me a clue.”

“Grace was there.” The voice stopped their conversation. Graham hadn’t said a word since they’d regained consciousness. He had his hands together on his lip, tears in his eyes. “I was living with Grace. She was alive. We were happy. Doc...how is that possible?”

“It wasn’t real. You have to remember that she can’t be alive. We all saw her die. We went through that pain together.”

He stood up angrily. “How can you stand there and talk about it so calmly? Why does this have to be the universe that’s real? I’ve seen a lot stranger stuff in this one so it would make sense. Maybe we’ve been living in the wrong reality all this time!”

“I know it hurts. And I understand why you want to cling onto that hope. But, if we start questioning everything we’ve come to know, everything we’ve ever experienced, there’s no chance of us figuring this out.”

Graham ran a weary hand over his face, attempting to wipe the tears away. “But...do we have to figure it out? I mean...if we end up going back to that...world...is it that bad if we stay there? It didn't seem that terrible a life.”

“It wasn’t a life though. These are our lives right now. No matter how hard we try sometimes, you can’t change that.” The Doctor remained resolute but she felt an awful agony at telling her friend this. She didn't want to hurt him but she had come to know that she often had to be cruel to be kind. They couldn’t...they wouldn’t...understand. 

Ryan was by his grandad’s side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I miss her too. Every single day. It would be great to have a world with her in it but the Doctor knows about these things. We have to listen to her.”

“She doesn’t know what’s going on though! Are we trapped here? Waiting to go back there? I don’t think I can go through it again.”

“The Tardis is non functional right now,” the Doctor admitted. “It takes something powerful to cause that to happen.”

“What did we nearly crash into?” Yaz queried, moving to the Time Lord’s side, who looked at her with excited eyes.

“Good question, Yasmin Khan! I really need to start that gold star system I talked about.” She leaned in closer to whisper to her. “Don’t worry, I still know that you’d be ahead.”

“I heard that!” Ryan yelled out indignantly.

“Anyway,” the Doctor said, ignoring the shout as she typed on the console, pressing what seemed a random order of buttons to the rest of them. “I’m sure we can still access the data logs. They shouldn’t have been corrupted by the power outage.” The screen brought up a selection of images and symbols that they couldn’t understand. She swiped through them one by one before something caught her eye. The image that came up on the screen was blurred and almost unintelligible. But the distinctive blue colour and strange shape was unmistakable. “Ah. Now that could be an issue.”

**********

The Doctor sat up abruptly, his eyes wide and alert. “Sontarans perverting the course of human history!” His shout echoed around the console room as he ran a hand through his grey hair. “No. That’s not right. Not this time.” He looked around the room, the usually bright room reduced to a shadow of its regular self. An annoying red light kept blaring on one of the panels. He reached into his jacket pocket to get his sonic screwdriver out to fix the issue. It was at that point that he remembered he no longer had one of those ever since he had seen fit to upgrade to sunglasses. Disgruntled with his past actions, he carried on searching for anything he had to find. His hand closed around an object, which he immediately threw at the offending light. His yoyo soared through the air and connected perfectly. It was a brilliant shot. It just did absolutely nothing to stop the warning system, instead prompting the ship to let out an annoyed series of noises that he dared not translate aloud in case any young pudding brains were about. 

Standing up as he got his bearings back, he managed to get himself to the console. His head was throbbing and he could hardly tell what his Tardis was trying to tell him. He already knew, of course. He’d figured out what was wrong before the accident had happened. But it was infuriatingly difficult to remember what his epiphany had been. He had to give it time and be patient.  _ Be patient?  _ He was a Time Lord. He was above such menial things like  _ patience _ . The whole point of being able to time travel was the fact that you could cut out that necessity for good. He was tempted to throw his yoyo at the machine again, as a sort of protest. He thought better of it though, thinking back to the time the old girl had abandoned him in a Jurassic forest for a day because he’d spilt some oil on her metalwork. It was always best to keep her happy.

“Doctor?” Clara’s weary voice drifted from somewhere on the floor. Immediately concerned, he looked around the console and spotted her slowly waking up. He was by her side in an instant, easing her up. She blinked sleepily at him, his bushy eyebrows the first thing to properly come into focus. She couldn’t stop the giggle that came out of her mouth, as she scrunched up her own eyebrows to imitate him. “Why are you so close?”

He rolled his eyes as he lifted up a panel on the floor, shifting through a box before pulling out a red first aid kit. He kept one on hand when he couldn’t be bothered walking all that way to the med bay. “I think you may have taken a bang to the head when you fell down. I just need to check you over.” It was funny how seeing  _ his  _ Clara in a state of possible injury made any fogginess in his brain disappear.

“It’s about time,” she flirted, trying to pose for him. Unperturbed, he started scanning her head with a small instrument. Everything seemed in order. He shined a dim light at her eyes that she complained about, before she attempted to bite his finger when he asked her to open her mouth and say ‘ah’. “Why did I fall over?” She gasped, making him jump. “Did you fall too? I think it’s only fair that I check you over too. I mean, it’s for your good.”

“Clara, you fell because we almost crashed. As for me, I don’t need any immediate medical attention.”

“If you mention your superior Time Lord biology, I won’t be accountable for my, most likely vicious, actions.”

Happy to see that she was steadily becoming like her normal self, he helped her up and sat her down in one of the nearest seats. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually used these chairs. There wasn’t a lot of time to sit down when you were with the Doctor, she supposed. She scrutinised his worried look as he moved back over to the console, biting his finger as messages appeared on the screen. 

“You said that we nearly crashed. But I’m certain we were stationary when everything happened. So how could we have crashed?”

“It’s more of a case of something almost flying into us,” he vaguely explained, hoping the damage wasn’t too bad. That wasn’t just the physical damage either that he had to worry about.

“In the Time Vortex? Another ship?”

“In a sense, yes.”

She jumped out of her seat (almost losing her balance - she regretted the decision straight away) as strange memories began to come back to her. “You were wearing...a suit! A proper, nice,  _ normal _ suit.”

He didn't let his eyes meet hers, wishing that they could have avoided this realisation for a bit longer. It would be hard to put into words what he thought had happened. “What are you talking about?”

“I was a professor! You were a professor as well! In a university.”

“Well, I’ve always meant to become a lecturer. It seems that my wishes have come true.”

“But, Doctor...you were human.  _ John Smith _ . How is this all possible? Did I just have a really strange dream? Wait. Hold on. You don’t seem surprised. Did you experience it too?”

He started slowly walking around the console, dragging the monitor with him, looking to keep something between them. “I might have...had similar...visions.”

“Did we...did we go on a date?” Even saying the word made her stomach flip when it was in connection to him.

He pointed a finger at her. “It was not a date! It was strictly a...professional meeting between colleagues. Everyone does them nowadays. It’s the modern way of living, Clara. Get with the times.”

She arched an eyebrow, a smug smile on her face. “So you admit you  _ did _ experience this...other world with me then? Which means it definitely wasn’t a dream. Because if I’m caught in some dream loop again like Christmas, I am going to complain. A lot.” 

“No. It wasn’t a dream. We were actually in that world, living those lives. Completely different identities, different circumstances...and yet we were still drawn together. Now what does that tell you?”

“That we’re either meant to be together, no matter who we are.” She wanted to believe that that was the case. “Or someone wants us to be together.”

“Which seems to happen quite a lot with us. It shouldn’t even surprise us now.”

“But you made it out as if this was all caused by an accident so how could someone be behind this?”

Despite the apparent danger that they were in, he was still proud to see how she asked all the right questions, how nothing appeared to faze her anymore. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. And the key piece of the puzzle is what nearly flew right into us. There are certain safeguards put in the time vortex. The Time Lords had a certain control over it for a time and some of them were very occupied about safety.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re the same as your people, the way you talk about them.”

He grinned wolfishly at their comment. “So...some safety precautions were taken. The thing about time travel is that millions of one person are, in essence, flying through the vortex at the same time. If you were to crash into yourself, the results would be…”

“Bad.”

“Very bad indeed. So, it should be impossible for that to happen.”

“Should be,” she repeated slowly, edging closer to him as the pieces of the puzzle came together in her head. Realisation was quick to dawn. “Are you trying to tell me that you managed to fly into  _ yourself _ ?” She really shouldn’t have been surprised by it. It was definitely something he’d do.

“Well, not  _ me _ ! A different version of me. I think it’s a later version, which is interesting.”

She didn't voice it but she felt an overwhelming sense of sadness wash over her at the thought that  _ this _ Doctor would, one day, be no more. Sure, it had to happen. Like with all the other Doctors before him. But she just couldn’t see this one ever falling. “So what’s so bad with us nearly crashing? It’s nowhere near as bad as actually crashing.”

“I could only act so quickly. Evasive maneuvers are effective but not perfect. Even if the two ships clipped one another, the local effects could be catastrophic.”

“Local effects? So this is affecting the people onboard the other Tardis?”

“We can only presume so. They might have been in that same world we were, living their own version of normal lives. It’s entirely possible that we walked past them, shared a conversation with them.”

“But that’s what I don’t really understand! How can an entire reality just pop up around us? I’ve seen some pretty amazing things with you but this sounds impossible.”

“Says my impossible girl,” he commented with a knowing look.

Clara smiled warmly at him. “Is that what you still call me? I should come up with a nickname for you. _Mr Eyebrows._ _Scotty the Scot_. _Basil_. And what’s that about me being _yours_?”

His arm slipped when she said that last part, making him stumble as he tried to avoid that conversation. “What were we talking about?” He avoided her look that involved a pair of raised eyebrows and a strange look of part curiosity and part...hopefulness. “The different reality! The easy answer is that...I don’t know. We’re facing a scenario here where we can fall asleep in one world and wake up in another. And I haven’t been in a situation like that since…” His face fell as he remembered. The quiet village of Leadworth, with its deadly old people. The freezing star that made no sense. 

“Finally, he figures it out!” The voice came from the top of the steps. Clara jumped in shock when she saw that a man had appeared out of thin air. He was short and didn't look very threatening at first glance. He had a head of mousy brown hair and was dressed in a neat tweed suit, finished with a red bowtie. It was an outfit that was incredibly familiar. But then she looked more closely at his face and could make out the beady, calculating eyes and the cold, unforgiving sneer. “To be fair to you, Doctor...I have to say you were quicker to piece it together than last time. I’m almost impressed.”

**********

“You mean to tell us that you almost flew us right into another Tardis?” Graham asked in perplexed fashion as he rubbed his head. He’d only just woken up - his brain couldn’t cope with most of this nonsense at the best of times.

“Not another Tardis. The same one!” the Doctor responded as if it was a perfectly natural thing to happen.

“Oh, that makes it nice and easy to understand,” he grumbled, sharing a baffled look with the other two humans.

“I think it was an earlier version. You know how time travel is. It can be...a pain. But both Tardises should have known to avoid one another.” She looked up at the time rotor in thought, knowing she was missing something. Something she should have seen by now. Something obvious. “If the safety buffers were somehow turned off, that could cause it. But I wouldn’t do that. Not intentionally.”

“Did you spill your tea over something again?” Yaz asked, a small smirk on her face at the thought. 

The Doctor huffed and pouted at her friend. “I haven’t done that for at least a week! Ever since you started making me use coasters.”

“Well, it couldn’t have been one of us,” Ryan spoke up with a shrug. “We don’t exactly know what a safety buffet is.” They didn't have the heart to tell him that he’d got the name wrong, making a creation in the process that sounded quite appetising. 

A flash, not dissimilar to the crackling of an old television set without any signal, went off by the doors of the Tardis, briefly illuminating the ever darkening room. As their eyes adjusted to the sight, the Doctor put herself between her Fam and the man that was now standing there. He was leaning against part of the columns, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor as he turned his wrist to look at a small watch. “That took you long enough. The other lot were much more impressive, I’ll tell you that. But it’s not a competition, now is it?”

“Doc...there seems to be some bloke in the Tardis,” Graham pointed out. “Or is my head acting up again?”

“No, he’s definitely there,” she said darkly, frowning at the smiling figure. “I just wish he wasn’t.”

“Come now, Doctor! You shouldn’t talk about one of your friends like that. Surely I’m even more than a friend after all this time.” The Dream Lord slowly approached them. As he moved past the console, he dragged his hand over it, the action causing more of the remaining light to dim. 

“I should have known it was you. Messing with reality. Only you would be so careless.”

“We’re as careless as one another, Doctor.” He was getting far too close to them for their liking but the Doctor was still standing her ground. “But this...this has taken meticulous planning. How long I’ve had to wait since you last bested me. It gives one time to think.”

“But it’s all for nothing. You have no jurisdiction over  _ actual _ reality. That world you created...we now know not to believe anything that happens within it.”

He clapped slowly, nodding his head. “Well done. You’ve caught me. You are truly greater than I ever will be.” The Dream Lord started to walk away, leaving the others to frown. That was far too easy. The Doctor got a sudden feeling of something being much worse than she’d realised. It was as if he could pick up on her dread. He turned around with a flourish, exuberantly stepping around the console room, enjoying the knowledge that their eyes were focused on him. He tapped his finger against his lips, pretending to consider a new thought. “Or...maybe I’ve learnt that my first test wasn’t suitable for you, Doctor. You have always been a person who thrives in a world of logic, being able to figure out a mystery better than anyone else. Put even the most difficult puzzle in front of you and, eventually, you will solve it. But you gave me time to think. And I realised what your one weakness always has been. Your hearts.” They could tell he was making the most of being able to outline his plan. “This time, I present you with another puzzle to mull over. Two worlds. One you know is real, the other...one you  _ wish _ was.”

He appeared next to Graham, holding onto his shoulders so that he couldn’t flinch away. “A world where your wife still lives, where you can wake up next to her every morning, seeing her smile as if it had never gone.”

The Dream Lord then was behind Ryan, practically whispering in his ear. “A world where you’re finally taken seriously, where you don’t have to live in fear of being made fun of, where you can accomplish... _ anything. _ ”

He finally turned to the Doctor and Yaz, standing in between them and wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “A world where you can share your secrets at last, where you can allow your untold feelings to flourish, where that impossible leap is transformed into a small jump.” The two women shared a look before quickly glancing away, unable to maintain eye contact.

Trying to put that idea to the back of her head, the Doctor shrugged away from him. “But you’ve told us everything we need to know. We can break out of it anytime you like.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second. The question is whether you’ll want to.” He started to wave at them. They were sure that they could hear birdsong. “Enjoy this brand new world. I created it just for you after all.”

“You said that there were others,” Yaz managed to say as they began to slowly lose their bearings, collapsing to the floor. The last thing she saw, apart from one final fearful look at the Doctor, was the Dream Lord looming over her.

“Hush now. Don’t concern yourself with their plight. You’ll come across them soon enough, I’m sure.”

**********

“Doctor...who is that?” Clara asked worriedly, standing close to the Time Lord as she watched the other man prowl.

“We’re old acquaintances, aren’t we, Doctor?” the Dream Lord said with a smirk. It quickly changed into a frown. “Have you not told her about me? How many secrets must you keep from the poor girl?”

Clara gave the Doctor a questioning look. “What does he mean by that?”

“All he’s capable of doing is messing with our heads,” he reassured her, not wanting her to be afraid or questioning of his actions. “I’d advise you not to listen.” He moved to stand closer to the intruder. “I presume you’re the one who created that world we were in?”

“Of course I was. Are we going to waste time with obvious questions? I thought you hated them.”

“But why would he do that?” Clara asked, attempting to keep up. “How could he? Is he a...Time Lord?”

“Oh, I’m not concerned with silly little titles like that. We’re all lords of time when you think about it.” He smiled at her; she was growing to hate how he exclusively spoke in riddles. “As for why I would do this...I thought it would be obvious. I’m trying to help you. That world you were in, how quickly did you find one another? Almost immediately. Surely that tells you both how you feel about one another?”

“I don’t think you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart,” the Doctor said with a frown, avoiding the topic of those dangerous feelings he had. 

“How cruel must you be if you can’t see the goodness in another’s actions? You’ve always been so...quick to judge. Not everyone has to have dark motivations.”

“I’m presuming you were the one behind the crash.”

“The Tardis is a beautiful creation.” He strolled around in a small circle, looking up to admire the large room. “But bring two together...now that’s simply spectacular.” He waved his hands with the final world, like some sort of twisted showman. “The power that generates is almost incalculable.  _ Almost _ . I had time on my side to figure it all out.”

“And you used this power to create this distorted reality.”

His lip curled into another frown. “I needed a boost. My powers were weakened after our last escapade.”

“Are the people in that Tardis suffering like us?” Clara wondered.

“Suffering? None of you are suffering. Yes, they’ll be in the same reality as you. The  _ perfect _ reality. Think of every dream you’ve ever had. I bet you’ve had a lot of temptations around this man. Who could blame you? I mean, look at that hair. Even I want to run my hands through it...but I digress. A click of my fingers and you’ll be back. You won’t remember this conversation whilst you’re there because it would ruin the experience. I’m giving you the chance to live again.” He smiled like a dodgy salesman would, trying to trick an unsuspecting customer. “You don’t even have to thank me.”


	6. Forces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo makes sure that Yaz is okay after her strange episode. It's definitely not just a chance to get her alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look out for a few cameos in this chapter!

They were all stood around her as she slowly opened her eyes. Yaz blinked wearily as memories of a strange, intimidating man inside a magical box faded away. In truth, she doubted whether she could have thought about anything else when Jo’s face was so close to hers. Her slender hands, so soft and warm, gently moved her head from side to side. They were both staring at one another, Jo doing it out of professional duty, Yaz doing it because the opportunity was there and she wasn’t going to miss it. Grace looked just as concerned about her welfare, taking up the role of carer she liked to be around Yaz. The police officer couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen Ryan look so serious either. As always, it was Graham who brought some much needed levity to the situation as he picked up the glass nearest to where the young guest was sitting. 

He sniffed it tentatively, looking over to his wife. “What did you put in this thing, love?”

Yaz was awake enough to laugh when Grace hit him on the back of his head. “What...what happened?”

They all looked over at Jo, who they expected to have an answer for that since she was a trained doctor. However, her face scrunched in confusion as she stood up straight, stretching out her back. “The thing is...I have no clue. You just lost consciousness for a bit there. There’s no sign of trauma or anything like that. Have you experienced anything like this before?”

Yaz shook her head before realising that was exactly the worst thing to do when your head was doing summersaults. “Never. I don’t think I would have passed my police medical exam if it was a regular occurence.” She balked at the sudden realisation. “This could affect my career! They’ll never promote me if they think I’m going to pass out on every assignment!”

Jo put a comforting hand on her shoulder, having seen many patients spiral like this before. The first, and most crucial, thing to do was make sure they were calmed down quickly. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious. For all we know, you might have just got a little bit too hot, not drinking enough. It happens to the best of us.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Trust me. I’m a doctor,” she said with a smile and a wink. Yaz was sure it was the  _ hottest _ and  _ sexiest _ thing she’d ever heard but she made sure to not say that out loud. Otherwise, they’d likely think that she was suffering from brain damage. Jo was still standing close to her, not wanting to move far away from the other woman (Yaz was definitely not going to complain). “It would give me some peace of mind though if I could take you to the hospital. Just to give you a once over to be on the safe side.”

“Is it really that serious?”

“Well, anything concerning the head has always got to be treated carefully and cautiously. It’s better to be safe than sorry with cases like this.”

“I don’t want you having to go out of your way just for me.” What she wanted to say, if she were to be truthful, was that she was secretly rather excited about getting a private check up from her. Her head was spinning with the number of innuendos that were popping up in her mind.

Jo, much to Yaz’s silent relief, shook her hand dismissively. “Nonsense! It’d be my pleasure. It’s not too far and they’ll let me in to do it. They owe me a favour or two.” Without waiting for a confirmation (Jo could tell she didn't need it), she began to help Yaz from her chair.

The younger woman looked over to her hosts, who had kept out of the way as the brief examination had happened. “I’m sorry for ruining the evening.”

“Don’t be daft,” Graham said immediately, rolling his eyes. “It was a great night! Well...apart from...you know...you...um...your episode?”

Grace was quick to intervene, softly pushing past him to wrap Yaz in a gentle hug. “Don’t listen to him. He’s never been good with words. But he was right about one thing. It was a fun night. I’ll be expecting this to happen more regularly, once we know you’re all fit and proper. Just make sure you look after yourself.” She caught the eye of Jo, who was absentmindedly staring at her new patient. “Who am I kidding? I don’t think you’ll have to. I reckon you’ve got someone here who will look after you no matter what.” She gave them both a knowing smile, making them slightly awkward around one another. Grace felt that her job had been completed.

With Ryan giving her a quick hug (along with the instruction that they definitely had to hang out more), they left the small cottage, Jo leading Yaz to a small blue car that was surprisingly spacious on the inside. Yaz felt a bit helpless and like too much attention was being placed on her. She was concerned about her own wellbeing (who wouldn’t be after falling unconscious out of nowhere) but she also didn't like people fussing over her. Jo had helped her into the passenger seat of the car, even going as far as doing the seat belt. Yaz didn't complain when she was forced to lean over her to do so. She was also realising that she had happily got into a car with a woman she hardly knew. For all she knew, she could be a mass murderer, lulling her innocent victim into a false sense of security. And, even though Graham and Grace would likely not be friends with someone like that, Yaz was apprehensive. No one knew when someone was an evil serial killer until it was too late. As Jo started the engine, she smiled over at Yaz, who gave an unsure one back. She was being silly, she told herself. Jo was a perfectly lovely woman and no one that attractive could be  _ evil _ .  _ That’s what made it the perfect crime. No one would ever suspect her _ . Yaz rubbed her forehead, fearing that the bang to her head may have done more damage than she’d realised.

Focusing on the road ahead and the little traffic that was milling about at the late hour, Jo still managed to pick up on the small action. She reached over and patted Yaz’s leg, who was still surprised at how affectionate the woman could be. “Is your head okay?” The amount of concern in her voice was unlike anything Yaz had ever heard. She was fully aware of how special this stranger was.  _ Maybe not a killer, hell bent on torturing as many people as possible then. _

“Yeah. I’m fine. I was just thinking,” she answered evasively.

“About anything interesting?”

Yaz could tell that she was simply trying to make small talk in an effort to keep her calm. She was thankful for it. “Not particularly. Just...you.” When Jo raised an eyebrow, Yaz’s eyes widened in horror when her brain figured out how that sounded. “Wait! That’s not to say that...you’re not interesting. I didn't mean it like that! I’m sure you’re perfectly wonderful and exciting.” She allowed her head to go back against the rest behind her, closing her eyes in annoyance. “Why am I a mess when I talk around you?”

“I seem to have that effect on people.”

“So you see this happen a lot then? Don’t know whether that would be a good thing. I’m finding it excruciatingly uncomfortable.”

“Don’t worry. I can safely say that you’re the first woman I’ve had tongue tied in here. I don’t have much time for a social life with the job I do. It’s one of the sacrifices you have to make. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. It’s the price you pay to be able to do such a worthwhile job.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. My family are always going on about how I need to relax and go out more. But I’m usually too focused on training and work.”

“It’s a good job we have one another then, isn’t it?” When she saw Yaz’s questioning look, she decided to elaborate. “I’ll let you into a secret: when I like someone, I’m very quick to label them as a friend. It’s too late for you to escape now.”

“I don’t think I want to,” Yaz responded with a nervous smile.

“Good. I’m...glad.” Jo’s voice was slightly less assured now, a hint of awkwardness rising up. “The move to London was one of the best decisions I ever made but it hasn’t given me a wealth of friends. I get on with my colleagues. Maybe not O but you’d understand if you ever met him. When Grace came calling, it was a real saving grace for me. Pardon the pun.” 

Yaz rolled her eyes at the joke but the smile remained on her face. Suddenly, all thoughts about her head and the worries that came along with them were gone as she listened attentively to her... _ friend. _

“And look where it’s got me,” Jo continued. “Getting to know you as I drive you to the hospital. It’s certainly the strangest way to form a bond but who doesn’t like a bit of  _ strangeness _ once in a while?”

Before meeting Jo, the only strangeness Yaz had experienced came with late night drinkers and public indecency. She much preferred this type. “Honestly, it’s probably what you said. Lack of fluids or something.”

Jo gave her a serious look, a far cry from the bubbly nature she’d been giving off just seconds before. It was actually pretty scary how quick she could change. “Yasmin Khan, you are my friend now. And friends have to look after one another. It won’t take long.”

“And here I was, thinking that you were just using it as an excuse to get me away from the others.”

“People can have multiple motives, I’ll have you know,” she said instantly with a sly grin. 

Yaz was faintly aware of the quiet whimper she let out at her words but Jo didn't seem to notice.  _ Thank the lords for small mercies. _ There was a slight pause in conversation as Jo focused on making the right turn and Yaz focused on composing herself. She was meant to be a police officer, unflappable and smooth. She was acting more like a deer in the headlights. 

She decided to hone in on a question that she had thought of soon after learning what Jo’s occupation was. “So, tell me...why did you become a doctor in the first place?”

Jo frowned. She felt a strange tingle in the back of her head, as if there was a proper answer that she was forgetting. “I...don’t know. I guess...it always felt natural. I was born to be a doctor, in a sense. Nothing else fit or made sense really. I’ve just had the sense that I had to right wrongs all my life. Like it’s my duty. Being a doctor makes doing that a lot easier. Well...I say easier...more accessible.” She quickly shook off the weird sensation, explaining it away with the late hour. 

“There should be more people like you in the world. It would be better for it.”

“It’s got you as well. You’re doing just the same as me. Becoming an officer of the law to help people. We’re very much alike me and you, so I’ll thank whatever forces brought us together.”

As Yaz considered the possibility of a higher power shaping their lives (the idea was surprisingly easy to accept), Jo pulled into the car park, which, due to the time of night, was emptier than usual. The blinking neon sign of the hospital shattered the darkness, the bright, fluorescent lighting poking through the windows as Yaz looked up at the imposing building. She hadn’t been forced to come here before thankfully but working in the area meant she always saw it. It was a towering grey building that stood out in the skyline of London. Her nerves started to play up; the sight of the building made her start to consider that something more serious was wrong with her. She didn't voice her fears though, thinking that Jo would see her as some sort of coward. It was a completely irrational thought since Jo had been nothing but the kindest of people so far but Yaz couldn’t shake it off.

As Jo turned the engine off and they got out of the car, Yaz noticed something on a small stone in front of the space they’d parked in. She arched an eyebrow at the other woman. “You must be important, having your own parking space.  _ Doctor J. Smith _ . Sounds very professional.”

“I didn't ask for it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” came a rather defensive reply. “It was part of the package when they hired me, trying to entice me with little treats.”

“It must mean that you’re a very good doctor.”

Jo shrugged. “I don’t do any of this for the attention or applause. I’d much rather go about my day without any recognition at all but that’s not possible.”

“I’d take it as a compliment. Sometimes it’s nice to hear that you’re doing well.” Yaz was sure that, barring from her family, she hadn’t received praise like that from any of her peers. And especially not from the people she had to deal with on the streets. “I guess it’s going to be my job to make you see it like that.”

Jo just laughed as she guided Yaz through the spinning doors of the entrance into a brightly lit entrance area. There were some people milling, family and friends of patients, doctors walking about. A cleaner was wiping part of the floor with a mop but stopped when he saw who had come in. The elderly gentlemen, his face framed by white hair and a beard of the same colour, gave them a winning smile. 

“Doctor Smith,” he said in greeting, walking up to them, resting the mop against the doorway. “I didn't think you were on duty tonight. I was disappointed when I saw the schedule.”

“You’re too kind, Wilfred. I’m not here on  _ official _ duty, just making sure my friend here is okay.”

Wilf, turning to Yaz, took her hand and placed a quick kiss on it. “Wilfred Mott, at your service. My, that is a nasty looking bruise on your forehead.”

Yaz instinctively reached her hand up to where he was looking, surprised by how tender her skin was there. “Just a bump on the head.”

“Well, the doctor here will get you good as new, mark my words, dear.”

“I thought they put you on shorter hours, Wilf,” Jo said, trying to steer away from any more unnecessary compliments. “Since they gave up on trying to make you retire.”

“It’ll take something more than a few aching bones to stop me, don’t you worry. And I needed the money frankly. Just started a course at the university. With the house being empty, I find it best to keep myself busy, you know? And I wanted to do something different in my old age rather than just toddle about all day.” He looked at Yaz. “You see, when I was of student age, I was shipped off to war instead. Missed out on that life. Now I can see what it’s like.”

“If you’re struggling with money, you know you can come to me,” Jo proposed.

His expression turned indignant and he started to sputter. “Nonsense. I ain’t becoming a burden on anyone, let alone someone as respectable as you.”

“There’s no point in trying to convince him,” a voice sounded. A woman stood watching them from the reception desk, slightly older than Jo from the looks of things. “He’s had everyone offering him any help they can give but he never listens. Because he’s too stubborn for his own good!” She said the last bit slightly louder to make her point clear.

Wilf didn't seem fussed about her complaints. “I ain’t going to change, Ruth.”

Jo stepped towards the desk, smiling at the woman there. “I’m just going to do a check up on my friend here in my office. Nothing too serious. We’ll be in and out before you know it.”

Ruth appeared to give Yaz a thoughtful, scrutinising glance, which made her slightly uncomfortable. “It’s a peculiar request.”

“You know me, I’m nothing if not peculiar.”

“You’ve definitely got that right.” Her smile lit up her face and Jo knew she would be allowed to do it. “There shouldn’t be anything wrong with that. Just don’t make it a frequent occurrence.”

“That all depends on Yaz and whether or not she bangs her head again.”

Ruth again looked at the woman in question, who blushed and shuffled her feet. “I’ll...try?” 

The receptionist let out a small, questioning hum but said nothing else. Jo gave her a thumbs up and she began to walk away once she’d waved goodbye to Wilf. Yaz wished him good luck with the university, which he greatly appreciated, before she raced after her friend.

Once she eventually caught up, they walked down a few corridors and up a couple flights of stairs. Jo hardly seemed to be paying attention to where she was going, doing it all by instinct. They got to one of the upper floors, which was a lot quieter than the rest of the hospital. This area didn't have the numerous wards or the worried people nervously waiting for their results. There were no cries of pain or anguish or the muffled sound of comforting platitudes given by doctors. Up here, you could almost forget what was going on everywhere else inside. Yaz could see how beneficial that could be but got the sense that was why Jo didn't like it as much. Her mouth was set in a thin line as she continued to walk, only stopping when she noticed a light was on in one of the offices. She poked her head inside, smirking when she noticed that the young woman inside hadn’t noticed her yet. Motioning for Yaz to be quiet, Jo took a breath and then coughed loudly. The other doctor jumped in fright, dropping a few sheets of paper onto the floor and only just catching a mug she’d knocked over. She glared at the triumphant Jo, only stopping from raising her voice when she noticed Yaz was there too.

“Jo Smith,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know everyone around here sees you as the chosen one but that doesn’t mean you get to scare me like that.”

“I saw the opportunity, I took it, I have no regrets.” The explanation and lack of apology did nothing to calm the visible anger on her face. “Yaz, my disgruntled colleague here is Martha Smith, formally Martha Jones, before she went and married Rickey...but that’s another, infuriating story.”

Martha stood up and shook Yaz’s hand, more relaxed now as she rolled her eyes. “I swear...that nickname wasn’t funny the first time you thought of it. And you were one of the happiest people when you found out about our engagement. I think it’s just because you had a massive crush on me.”

Jo didn't even bat an eyelid. “If you want to lie to yourself to boost your ego, that’s fine by me.” She smiled at Yaz, who was happy to hear her dismiss the notion of her liking someone else so quickly. “Martha is one of our finest doctors here and one of the hardest working. But even so...you should have clocked off hours ago.”

Martha let out a tired sigh. “You know how it is...you start making progress on the pile of paperwork you have but it never ends. One of my former patients reckons that their arm feels  _ worse _ than when they came in. I don’t know what they’re trying to get out of it, probably money. I’m leaving it to the lawyers to prove how wrong they are but it couldn’t sit back and not help.”

“You do need to spend some time at home though,” Jo said with a soft tone. “Mickey and the kids will be helpless without you. I dread to think what microwaveable meal he will have made for them.”

“He’s handier and more capable than you realise, thank you,” Martha responded, defending her husband.

“Still...you don’t need to live here.”

Martha let out a bark of laughter. “Says you!” She leaned over to Yaz to talk more quietly. “Trust me when I say that this is basically her home. The number of times I’ve arrived in a morning to see she’s in the same clothes as the day before is startling and greatly troubling.”

“We’re not here to scrutinise my work habits!” Jo said indignantly, not wanting Yaz to get the wrong impression of her.

“Then why  _ are _ you here? You haven’t dragged the poor girl here just to show off, have you?”

“I have not! That’s the last thing I’d want to do. I’m just doing a routine check up. She had a scare earlier and I suggested that I try and see what caused it.”

Martha raised an eyebrow. “Oh, a private one on one? Jo, you sly dog. I’ve never seen you bring them to your place of work before. Trying something new?”

The two women blushed furiously, not looking at one another. “I’m going to pretend that you didn't just say that to avoid the internal embarrassment I’m currently feeling. But, let me warn you, you will pay for that. You won’t know when and you won’t know how...but vengeance is coming.”

Martha seemed less than scared. “You’re always so dramatic. I hope you can cope with that,” she said to Yaz, who was still recovering from the earlier comment.

“I think I can learn to.”

Martha regarded her carefully, smiling. “You’ve got yourself a good one here, Jo. Don’t let go.”

“I’m going to leave you with your paperwork to avoid any more of your insinuations.” Jo was already moving towards the door before Martha could respond, practically dragging a startled Yaz with her.

“Have fun!” Martha sang with a bright smile, loving when she could have fun with her co-worker. It had been a while since they’d joked around like that, so if this Yaz could bring her bubbly personality out again, then she was very supportive of whatever their relationship was. 

Jo unlocked the door to her office and allowed Yaz to step inside first. The police officer looked around the room, taking it all in. One wall was covered in framed degrees, certificates and awards. It made it clear how good a doctor Jo actually was, regardless of how much she played it down. As she stared at them all, the seemingly endless rows, she couldn’t help but feel daunted. This woman was far greater than her. She knew that this was no way to measure a person’s credit and value but still...it brought home the fact that there was no way she would be interested in  _ her _ . To her credit, Jo was quick to move her away from all of them, visibly not caring about them. She patted a small bed with a blue sheet on, obviously wanting Yaz to sit on it. She nervously did as she was instructed, perching on it with her legs dangling off the edge. She felt like a young kid getting their first doctor’s appointment. She’d had to go to the nurse’s office a fair few times in school since she was always falling over in the playground. She’d always been a clumsy child; her mum was always reminding her of that since parents had a biological need to embarrass their children.

As Jo busied herself with putting a pristine white coat over her blue suit, Yaz had the opportunity to take a closer look at her office. A rather large oak desk was set by the far wall, just to her left. On it, there were a couple of cards, probably from grateful patients that she’d helped. Yaz could see a few photo frames with various pictures of her. There was one of her on the summit of a mountain, wrapped up in a garish orange coat and woolly hat. Another hugging a horse in what appeared to be a south american farm. In every photo, she was smiling and radiating positivity. Yaz couldn’t help but smile herself as she looked at them - it was practically infectious. But there was something glaringly obvious. There were no pictures with family or friends. Jo had mentioned that she had been lonely since moving to London so Yaz was quickly picking up on their being more to her than just the shining smile and kind personality. Without hardly knowing the woman, Yaz knew that it would be up to her to make her open up. 

She didn't want to bring it up straight away however. She’d end up scaring her off or making her angry and that was the last thing that Yaz wanted. She had to play it cool, a word she was fully aware had never been used to describe her before. Jo turned back around, Yaz putting a small smile on her face to make it seem like nothing was on her mind. 

“You’re probably wondering why I have a bed in my office,” she said, opening a drawer that held medical equipment of a number of different shapes and sizes. “The hospital thought it would be good to make private consultations available with me. They felt that my reputation would entice richer customers looking for the best treatment. The idea absolutely disgusted me but I allowed them to put the bed in to shut them up. I just haven’t accepted any of the clients they’ve put forward.” She smiled as she said that but there was a hint of sadness in it. “Healthcare and the quality of it shouldn’t come down to how deep your pockets are. I’m a firm believer in that even though I know there’s little I can do to change the world we live in when it comes to money. But I know I can do little things like, small acts of defiance. Just to annoy them all. They’d never dare sack me.”

Yaz was dangerously close to swooning. She had never met someone who spoke so passionately about the work they did. It was refreshing. And Yaz was of the mindset, wanting to change the way things were, to try and make things better for everyone. “So I’m the first patient you’ve had in here. I should be honoured.”

Jo shook her head but Yaz definitely saw a smirk dancing on her lips. “Any more of that cheek and I’ll make you pay for this.”

“I’m a junior police officer living in London. I don’t think I could afford a private session with you even if I saved up for a decade.”

“Which is why I hate that they wanted me to become a part of that system. I hardly spend the money I have. I’ve had that car since I got my first proper pay cheque. So, don’t worry...I would never make you pay.”

Yaz couldn’t help but think about something Martha had said in passing. As Jo shined a small light in her eye, she worked up the nerve to say something. “So...Martha made it seem that you’ve had a...few...um...relationships in...the past?” She winced as she finished, fearing that she’d overstepped the mark, gone past a boundary.

Jo stopped what she was doing, fiddling with the light. “I wouldn’t listen to what Martha says. She likes to joke around, especially about my social life. Well...lack of it.”

“Are you sure? Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s...not my place. We’ve only just met!”

“No, no. It’s okay. I think Martha was just excited. Like I said, I’ve had no one in London. She was probably over the moon that I had someone with me. Not the usual stack of paper that I occupy myself with.” She made Yaz open her mouth, placing a wooden stick on her tongue.

It made it rather hard for her to speak but she tried her best. “Is Martha...not...a friend?”

Satisfied with what she’d seen, Jo stood up straight again, throwing the stick in the bin. “More of a colleague. She’s asked me if I’ve wanted to go out before but I’m always too busy. And she’s got the kids now...it’s impossible to arrange anything.”

“Maybe you should try. A little bit harder. Maybe.” She baulked when Jo looked at her, immediately wanting to take it back. “Or...not! Do what you want. Don’t listen to me.”

Jo wasn’t too comfortable with the fact that they were having this conversation but she smirked at how adorable Yaz was when she was fumbling with her words.  _ Adorable _ . Did she really just think that? That was dangerous territory. And it was a pointless waste of brain cells and synaptic transmissions because Yaz was quite a bit younger than her. She’d probably be disgusted if she found out she’d thought about it even remotely. It was best to stifle those notions before they got out of hand. But it was difficult when she was alone in a room with a caring, lovely woman who wasn’t scared to speak her mind.  _ Stop going down that path! _

“Why are you so invested in what I get up to?” she asked. There was no annoyance or irritation in her voice. She was simply curious. And she wanted to see if there was any  _ interesting _ reason for all the questions. Personal motivations perhaps? Jo was getting annoyed with how stubborn her brain was being with those ideas.

“I just...think you should be happy. I mean, like I’ve said, I hardly know you. But you’re clearly a nice person who wants to do her best. Surely that’s the sort of person who deserves some happiness.”

“Does the world work so perfectly like that?” Jo sincerely doubted it.

“I believe that the world  _ can _ work like that. I’ve just got the feeling that it just might for you. Mysterious forces at play. But it’s all down to what you do and put in.”

“You sound a lot wiser than your age would suggest.”

Yaz gasped, trying to act offended. “How dare you? I’ve been known to have my moments from time to time.” 

They both smiled at one another as Jo continued with her little tests. She found herself doing them much slower than she usually would, not wanting Yaz to go. Once she had done, there would be no reason for her to stay. There would be no reason for her to stay in contact either. Would they see each other again?  _ It’s all down to what you do and put in _ . Jo didn't want to miss this chance of friendship so maybe she had to do something different and make a sustained effort this time. Yaz seemed like the perfect woman to change for. 

Eventually, the tests were done and Jo couldn’t think of any more excuses to prolong the consultation. “Right. I’m glad to report you’re in perfect health. You might have that bruise for a while but some people might think it makes you look dangerous. Including me.” She carried on talking despite the blush on her cheeks. “Just take it easy. I’ll have Ruth book you a taxi to take you home.”

That took Yaz by surprise since she’d been expecting to go back the same way they’d come. Was Jo trying to get rid of her? “Oh...are you staying?”

“Yeah,” Jo sighed. “I’ll have to tidy up then right up a small report. Boring stuff really and I wouldn’t want you to have to wait.”

“Oh okay...so...thanks for looking after me,” Yaz said, attempting to hide her sadness. They moved towards the door, both not wanting to say goodbye just yet.

“It was my pleasure.”

Taking a brave step, one that she probably wouldn’t normally take, Yaz wrapped Jo in a warm hug, taking the doctor by surprise. Not that she was going to complain. It seemed like an eternity before they let one another go. Yaz could hardly maintain eye contact but she was glad that she’d done it.

“What was that for?” Jo wondered, still tingling from the sensation.

Yaz shrugged. “I just felt that you needed it. And it’s a reminder that you have someone for you in London now.”

Jo smiled shyly and rushed over to her desk before handing Yaz a small card. “My business card.” She hated having them but now they were coming into good use. “You’ll notice that it has my number on it. This is me...making an effort.”

Yaz nodded her head, smiling as she stared at the card. “Then let’s hope the world works for you.”


	7. Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Clara have similar doubts as they think about one another, whilst Jo and John have unexpected encounters with their least favourite co-workers

John enjoyed the few moments he got at the university where he could enjoy some peaceful solitude. That was mainly because he rarely got an opportunity to experience them. He was sitting at his desk, tapping a pen against the varnished wood as he read one of his student’s essays. His glasses were perched precariously on the end of his nose as he took in paragraph after paragraph. He had to admit that it was good, especially for a first submission. It carried a certain level of eloquence that wasn’t always prevalent in his first years and it spoke of experience in the subject. He couldn’t help but smile at the traits of personality coming through, including the rather strongly worded debunking of the racial system everyone was trapped in. John would have to find whoever wrote this and give them the credit they rightly deserved, something he rarely did. Maybe it was down to the good mood he was in that day that he was so ready to dish out praise.

He told himself that his positivity was a result of the surprisingly excellent autumnal weather outside. The campus was a beautiful one, especially when the sun was shining and the trees were turning a burnt orange colour. He just had to be swept up by its charm; no one could resist a smile when they walked through the main courtyard below his office window. Maybe it was also down to the joy he got from the start of a new semester, that sense of hope and promise of change. It was always an exciting time for him so he shouldn’t have been surprised at feeling its effects once again. There were so many logical explanations for his happiness. He’d added an extra spoonful of sugar into his tea as a small treat for making it to Friday. He’d remembered to put his phone and laptop on charge the night before, meaning there was no early morning scramble to save their battery life. The canteen was doing a special on those little biscuits he loved. Perfectly reasonable and logical explanations that he could ease his curiosity with. 

Yet, the only  _ true _ explanation was not a logical one at all. And, deep down, in that part of his brain he didn't like to give any time to, he knew that it was the only reason for his happy mood. Clara Oswald. Even the thought of her put a smile on his lips. The way she spoke to him, so freely and openly. Talking to him as if he were someone just like her, her own age. The way she felt so passionately about her subject, just like he did in regards to his. And, dear god, that smile she had. The grin, the smirk. When he managed to force one onto her face, he felt that he had accomplished something truly special. He put the paper down, too distracted by the thought of her to focus on any of his work. John ran a hand down his face, attempting to wake him up from this mindset. He was in serious trouble. He sounded like a lovesick teenager and he hadn’t been one of those for a number of decades. He had to stop thinking about her. It was wrong, thinking of ways to spend more time with her, contemplating going to another of her lectures to give her some support. She didn't want to spend that much time with him, that should have been obvious. If he was thinking rationally, he would have seen that by now, appreciated what it meant. What he was doing...it was downright creepy. If he carried on, he would end up being the subject of a critically acclaimed Netflix drama and he doubted he would come out of it looking good.

The issue was that, the more he fought himself on the subject, the more that infernal piece of his mind kept suggesting that it was worth a chance. What did he have to lose if he brought it up with her? They’d already been on a date, after all. Forgetting the fact that neither of them had referred to it as such so it was most definitely another case of hopeful thinking. And, as to what he had to lose...he would be putting his reputation, his work, his financial stability on the line if something he did went wrong. That was the boring side of his mind trying to fight the onrushing wave of irrationality, as it put it. He’d then place a counter argument, as if a tiny lecture or debate was happening inside his head (the image was both entertaining and terrifying). Surely, in the pursuit of happiness, one had to take risks and, since Clara was obviously someone special, quite possibly the greatest human on the planet, then the risks would have to be great themselves. The thing that scared him the most was that those sort of points were beginning to make sense to him. 

John looked around the empty room he was in. On the desk, there were a few photos of relatives and a couple of friends but no direct family of his own. No wife, no children. How long had he been focused on his job more than what everyone claimed  _ actually _ mattered the most? Too long? He pursed his lips in thought, remembering why he didn't have too much time on his own at work. Because he ended up having thoughts like this so he usually made up excuses to avoid them. He was a coward, hiding behind the excuse of his job to stop himself from potentially embarrassing himself. Was now the time to finally take the risk? What he wanted to see in the future, if he was being honest with himself, was a photo on his desk with him and Clara. Was that at all possible or attainable? He knew there was only one way to find out. He just had to be brave. Someone had once told him that fear was a superpower (he couldn’t remember who) so it was high time that he put it to good use.

There was a knock at the door, disturbing him from his inner turmoil. For a second, he thought, he hoped, that it might be Clara popping by to see him, to gossip about their day. He’d never gossiped before until the other day, when she had started and had eventually roped him into doing the same. His hopes were dashed though when the door opened and Michelle walked in. Well, it was more of a saunter but that was how she always moved about. Her long black hair went past her shoulders (he often said that it matched the darkness of night that was her natural habitat). She wasn’t exactly the person he wanted to see right now but John knew that there would be no ridding of her until she’d got what she wanted. He just never knew what that was. He was unnerved by the small smirk on her face. He couldn’t fathom how it was so easy for her Michelle to put him on edge. It was something about her icy demeanour.

“I don’t remember inviting you in,” he said grumpily, pretending to be still looking at essays. She probably wouldn’t fall for it but it was worth a try. “I thought the whole point of being given an office was to have some privacy when I wanted it.”

“Oh, come on,” she whined with a pout. She was practically leaning over his desk, having no consideration for personal space. “I  _ did _ knock this time, which has to be seen as an improvement.”

“I’ll give you that,” he admitted, relenting. There’d been far too many times where she’d just barged in, sometimes when he was having a meeting with a student. She’d usually scare them off before they’d finished. “So...I’m sure that you have a reason for this visit. Get to it.” The sooner he got rid of her, the sooner he could go back to contemplating what to do with Clara.

“Isn’t it reason enough for someone to see their friend?” Michelle’s tone was sickly sweet. Too sweet for his liking. She was definitely up to something.

“Are we friends?”

She let out an astonished gasp, holding her chest to act as if she’d been wounded. “How could you say such a thing?” She had always been one for the dramatics. John had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “We have known each other for years! Decades, even! Surely that means something to you.”

“Are you really here to have a deep conversation about our relationship? Because, if so, I think I’ll need a drink. Wait. I  _ know _ I’ll need a drink.” He kept a bottle of whiskey in one of his drawers for such a horrid occasion.

“Relationship? Who said anything about a relationship? John Smith, you naughty boy.” Her smirk (or was it more of a snarl?) was even larger now. She was enjoying this. “Although, I suppose I shouldn’t get my hopes up. It seems that you’re trying to have a relationship with someone else.”

He tried to act unaffected by her accusation, keeping his eyes trained on anything other than her. He could sense that Michelle’s eyes were fixed on him, waiting to pick up on any tells. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You know better than anyone that I only have time for the job.”

She slammed a hand against the desk, making him jump. “Don’t lie to me! Don’t think I haven’t noticed her coming round to your office every so often. And you hadn’t set foot in the English department during all your time here until a few weeks ago and now you’re always making up excuses to go there.”

“Have you been spying on me?” He stood up, staring at her. It seemed that it was probably best to keep some distance between them. 

“I’d call it ‘keeping an eye on you’. For your own safety.”

“Why are you so interested in what I do? Or who I spend my time with?”

Michelle hesitated, the first sign of weakness she’d shown since walking into his office. “Because...I don’t want this to affect your work. As your boss, it’s my job to make sure you’re focused all the time and this girl represents a major distraction.” Even her voice didn't sound so sure about her motives.

“One, she is not just a  _ girl _ . She’s a friend and a professional woman with a doctorate. So there’s no need to insult her. Two, she isn’t going to distract me from my work. If you actually paid attention, you’d notice that my productivity has actually increased since I first met her!” There was no need to tell her that that was mainly down to him using his work as a way of distracting himself.

“I just...I don’t want you to get hurt.” Her voice was small this time. He was surprised by that, by how unsure Michelle was of herself. “You seem different around her. I’ve never seen you act like this before and, if that means what I think it does, then I’m telling you now that I won’t be there to pick up the pieces when it all goes wrong.”

He allowed a ghost of a graceful smile to flicker on his face. “Thank you. For looking out for me. And, don’t worry, if anything does go wrong...I’ll be sure to recover from it on my own. No need to trouble you.”

Michelle paused again, thinking about what to say. Her eyes spoke of words unsaid, of words that she wanted to say. Instead, she turned her face into the mask it usually was and nodded her head. Then she left the room without another word, leaving John back in his peaceful solitude, with even more questions and concerns troubling him.

**********

Although she didn't know it, Clara was in a similar situation as John. If she had known that they both had a free hour at the same time, she would have most definitely found a reason to spend it with him. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been so interested in someone before. Any relationship she’d had in the past hadn’t lasted very long at all so there hadn’t been much of an emotional connection. There had been that summer fling with Nina but that was done more out of curiosity than anything else. Clara hadn’t told John that story yet, envisaging his brain exploding at the mere thought. She was saving it for the opportune moment, when he was least expecting it. Although, knowing him, he probably would hardly react to the news about her sexuality, which was a good thing. And also annoying when she wanted to startle him. 

John. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? She’d be in her apartment, tucking into a meal for one she’d found in the freezer aisle, watching the news (had it become more depressing lately or was that just her interpretation?). She’d see something and immediately want to talk to him about it. She found herself wanting to hear his opinion on everything, to get his take on different topics. They had started having conversations about their respective subjects but it had soon branched off into numerous other talking points. Clara enjoyed the debates they had, most of which were pleasant and civil. There had been one time when John had argued ketchup should be banned because it was a horrible substance; she hadn’t been able to stand for such poor judgement and had started a heated tirade about its ‘exceptional’ qualities, as she’d put it. It had all ended in them both dissolving into fits of laughter like children. The memory of it still brought a smile to her face as she sat in her office, trying to plan the lecture for next week. She bit her lip, knowing that she was in deep trouble. 

If her dad found out about her  _ liking _ an older man, he would likely have a fit. Was that why she was doing it? A subconscious act of revenge after he’d gotten with Linda, the worst person on the planet? No. She knew that, whatever her feelings were towards John, they were genuine. Which scared her even more. She shouldn’t even have been contemplating the matter. They were colleagues! The devil on her shoulder would say that was stretching the term since they were in different departments. Why was she listening to that voice in her head? If she did feel something, then surely it was worth taking a gamble that he felt something similar. That sense of self doubt could never be quashed though. Clara kept reminding herself that it was entirely plausible that he was just being kind. She was just latching onto him because he’d been the first person she’d found in this place and he didn't have the heart to say he wanted some space from her. If she had never gotten lost, they never would have met. What forces had made her make that wrong turn? Was he happy that she had? She leant back in her chair and let out a loud sigh, not caring if anyone heard her.

She glanced around the room as she tried to collect her thoughts. It was more modern than John’s since the building she was in was newer. He had said that it was too clean and neat the first time he had seen it. She had to agree with him. It lacked character, that had been what he said. She wouldn’t say it to him but she much preferred his. The chaotic energy it gave off was just...marvellous and it suited his personality perfectly. She was sure that there was a fireplace in there, which really wasn’t a necessity. But she was in love with the shelves of books lining the wall, eyeing them all and vowing silently that she would read them all one day. Clara had the image in her head of the night drawing in, the fireplace crackling as they both sat in armchairs. She would be reading one of those books. He would be strumming on one of his guitars. He still hadn’t played for her like he had promised but she was waiting patiently before she asked again. 

The dream was perfect and the more time that passed without it coming to fruition, the more she grew annoyed. Sure, she hadn’t done anything about it but she was British. British people never make a fuss or risk embarrassing themselves. It was the one basic principle they all had. Could she ask? She mentally chastised herself. She was being absurd. How would it sound if she asked him if they could stay late in his office and hang out? Of course, she wouldn’t word it so bluntly in practise but the point still stood. He would run away (Clara had never seen him run before but presumed that he still could) and hide, keeping away from the psychotic woman who was falling for him after only a few weeks since meeting him. Had she just admitted that she was, indeed, falling for him? It was worse than she thought. The work on her computer long forgotten, she banged her head against the desk, wondering if she could knock some sense into herself.

There was an uncertain cough that made her pause. “Umm...Doctor Oswald...are you okay?”

Clara lifted her head slowly, wishing that she could be sucked up into a big hole so she could escape the obvious torment the world was putting her through. One of her students was standing halfway through the door of her office, smiling awkwardly. For a few seconds, she had to fight to remember his name.  _ Ryan _ .  _ That was it _ . She had asked him to come visit her to go through some of his work. Clara looked up at the clock on the wall. Time really had gotten away from her but she supposed that was what happened when you were living in your head all the time. 

Forcing a fake smile on her face, she sat up straight and attempted to look a bit more professional. “Oh...yeah. Don’t worry…” She glanced at a file on top of a pile on her desk. “...Mr Sinclair. I’m just dealing with...stuff.” Now it seemed that her mouth had chosen not to work too. Her day was going great. Just great. 

Clara motioned to a chair opposite her and, not wanting to delve into the private life of his lecturer, Ryan sat down without another word. He looked around the room as Clara started looking for his file on her computer. Tapping his foot, he waited in silence. Graham had been right - all lecturers were a bit weird in their own way. He just hadn’t expected this one to be too. 

Finding what she was looking for after a short while, Clara smiled at him for a moment before talking. John would have laughed at how awkward the situation was but she put the thought of him to the back of her head, which really took some doing. “Mister Sinclair…”

“Please, just call me Ryan,” he interrupted, holding up a hand.

“Good. But then you have to call me Clara. It’s only fair and I don’t really like the formalities either.” She knew John really didn't. Whenever he spoke to his students (the few that were brave enough to start a conversation with him), it was always on a first name basis. There she went again, thinking about him. Was it an addiction? “I just thought I’d set up this meeting to introduce myself and talk about the work you’ve done so far. I don’t know whether you know that I’m your advisor for this year.”

“I do now,” he said with a laugh.

“So...your main degree is in media but you’re doing my course as a free choice. Is there a reason why you chose to do that?”

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know really. For a while now, I’ve been interested in work within media and English ties in well with that. And I thought it would be interesting to do something a bit different. My Grandad was happy that I was doing some ‘proper learning’ for once.”

Despite herself, Clara chuckled lightly. “I like the sound of him.”

“Oh, he loves it here. When he found out that I got in here, he was over the moon. So was my gran but she’s always supportive so that didn't change anything. They both think I can go far and this is my way of trying to not let them down.”

Clara was growing to like this young man. He came across as a self assured person although she could see there was uncertainty and anxiousness bubbling away under the surface. He was obviously dedicated, which was always a good quality to have. She was looking forward to teaching him. “It’s always nice to have that support network and I hope that I can be a part of that in the upcoming future. My role is to simply guide you in how you’re approaching studying and tackling assignments. The university likes to go on about the level of independence you have to have during these years but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some help.”

“Well, that’s good. I might need it.”

A slight frown darkened her face as she looked at the screen. “I don’t know about that. Your first essay was excellent, especially for a first go. You were eloquent, passionate...you clearly knew what you were talking about. You say that you don’t want to let your grandparents down...if your work carries on like this, then there’s every chance that you’ll surpass even their expectations. And I might be looking into how to poach you from the Media department.”

“Really?” He looked genuinely surprised and her heart swelled for him. This was the good part about her job. “That’s...amazing. Wow. All I did was write my opinion on the text.”

Clara leant forward. “I’ll let you into a secret...that’s the main thing that you’ve got to do. Trust me. Keep voicing your opinion, and the word will be better for it. And that isn’t normally the case for most people.” She smiled as he still looked dumbstruck. “If you have any questions…”

“No, no. I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you, Doctor...I mean, Clara.” He began to stand up.

“It’s my pleasure, Ryan. I’ll see you in lecture next week.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Just before he reached the door, he paused and turned back. “And...if you don’t mind me saying...whatever trouble you’re going through...you know, with the head banging...I hope it gets better.”

Clara smiled again as he left, this time more forced. And she couldn’t help but keep thinking the same thing.  _ Me too _ .

**********

Jo hadn’t sat down all day. That wasn’t unusual; in fact, it was pretty much par for the course when you were working as a doctor. At least it kept her fit and healthy, all the running about. And she had to say that she looked rather cool when her white coat billowed behind her as she was hurrying around. Jo had started the day early like she usually did, waking up before her alarm clock (it had become such a regular pattern that she was sure that her brain had developed an internal wake up alarm). Coffee poured into a blue travel mug that seemed to hold more liquid than it really should have been able to, she had arrived at work at the same time as usual - it was easy to navigate London’s traffic when you were a local. She had said hi to Ruth at the reception desk, like she normally did, before heading up to her office to brace herself for the day ahead. Clipping her pager to her belt, it had started blaring almost immediately, like it did every single day. 

So why hadn’t it felt like a normal day as she sat alone at a small window table in the canteen? This was where she always ate when she was on the day shift. It was practically known as  _ her _ table now and no one dared steal it off her. It wasn’t as if she would have attacked them for doing so, she really wasn’t that bothered. But reputations spread like wildfire in a hospital, almost as easily as diseases and viruses. Jo was playing with her food, swirling a spoon in the bowl of soup she’d bought. The meals on offer had surprised her when she had first come, seeing the quality on show. That’s what the best money bought, she presumed. Yet, despite how enticing it smelt, she couldn’t bring herself to eat. Something was troubling her. She was using this break to try and put her finger on the reason.

Nothing had gone drastically bad in the morning. Poor old Mister Walsh was getting worse, his dementia slowly causing his brain to deteriorate. He had been a patient of hers for quite a while now, so to see him going past the point of saving hurt her a lot. All they could do was keep him comfortable, which she didn't see as being good enough. That must have been the reason for her sour mood. But then she remembered how he had been when she had visited earlier. He had still been able to joke with her, asking if she could get him some ‘proper’ food for a change (he had specifically asked for a bacon and sausage sandwich, since his wife never let him have one. Jo hadn’t had the heart to remind him that his wife had passed away a couple of years previous). He had also gone on about how they never made any good tv shows anymore, asking her whether she could write a letter to the BBC to inquire if they could bring back Dad’s Army and ‘Allo ‘Allo. Jo, with a smile on her face, had vowed to do exactly that and he had thanked her profusely before dozing off back to sleep. To see him carry on fighting against that awful disease, it filled her with a curious sense of pride, not sadness. 

So it wasn’t anything to do with her patients or the hospital. Which meant there was only one culprit remaining. Jo pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at it forlornly. It had been a couple of days since she had last seen Yaz, since they had been in her office together and she had been too scared to do anything more than the tests she had promised. She had been delighted to see that she had received a text fairly soon after, Yaz making sure that she hadn’t been given a fake number. But that had been that. Nothing more. No messages asking if she wanted to meet up again. No texts asking how she was. Jo understood that she was being stupid. It wasn’t as if she had sent any messages either so the entire problem she was facing was hypocritical. Again, her cowardice was shining through. Nothing changed there. But hadn’t she promised to be braver? She had, after all, given Yaz her phone number, something she wouldn’t normally have done. So surely that meant something. 

Her soup grew cold as she continued to stare at the phone. The one truth that Jo was sure of was that she wanted to see her again. Her brain told her that meant it was her duty to press a few buttons on her phone and suggest they do that. Her fingers froze as they neared the screen though. A number of Issues raced through her head, making her go dizzy. Yaz would be busy, fighting crime on the streets of London, no doubt. Like the police officers in the dramas she liked to watch. So she wouldn’t have time to see her anyway. And then there was the fact that Yaz wouldn’t want to be spending time with a woman so much older than her (she was deliberately forgetting the fact that Yaz had given her her number too since that didn't fit within her mindset). So it was obvious that the best thing to do for both of them would be for her to put the phone away and stop thinking about it.

Yet, her hand continued to hover over the screen. It would be simple to type a few words and be done with it. She could stop the pain in her head and ease her delusions. Messaging would confirm either that what she believed was true or Yaz wanted to see her. Whichever one it was, it would certainly help. She began to type quickly before she lost this strange courage.  _ Hi Yaz. Just thought I’d check in, see how you are. Hope I’m not being too weird or anything in doing so. Does asking if I’m being weird make me weird by forfeit? Anyway...I’m free over the weekend so, if you wanted, we could meet up? Don’t want to pressure you so feel free to say no. Hopefully you don’t. Jo x _ .

She had debated about putting the kiss on the end but had reasoned it was something a lot of friends did. Maybe it could be her  _ thing _ . She kept rereading the text, hoping it didn't sound too chaotic. It was as good as it was going to get. She hesitated before sending, taking a calming breath. But, just as she was going to hit send, the other chair to her table was dragged across the floor and a person she wasn’t expecting to see sat down on it. Jo gave O a confused look as she discreetly put her phone away. His eyes watched the movement regardless. She could never get away with anything around him.

“What do you want?” she asked a bit too sharply. Jo didn't care - she could feel her confidence disappearing with every second of delay this took. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to eat?”

He was smiling, which did nothing to settle her unease. He glanced at the bowl of soup and raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been sitting here for ages and haven’t touched it. I thought I could take the risk.”

“Have you been watching me?” she wondered with a scowl.

“I like to watch everyone. You can tell a lot about a person by how they subconsciously act, when they think no one is looking.”

“You do realise how creepy that sounds, right?”

O paused, thinking it over. “When I spell it out, it does seem quite weird. But I don’t think anything I could do would change your opinion on me.” He grinned, knowing how much he was able to rattle her. No one else could, so he wore it with pride.

Jo simply rolled her eyes and pushed the bowl to one side, there being no point in keeping it now it was cold. “What did you discover about me from watching me? I’m rather interested to see if your  _ gift _ is accurate. Or real.”

For a moment, he stared at her, observing her closely. She began to shift under the scrutiny, not liking being the centre of attention. It seemed like an eternity before he spoke. “Something is troubling you. Now, I know that you hardly worry about work. The fact that you got  _ my  _ job just shows how good you are.” There was an edge to his voice as he said that but she was still surprised to hear the compliment. “Which means it has to be something to do with your social life. Last time I checked, that was nonexistent so...this is a new development.”

Jo had to commend him for his deducing skills. He would be smug when he realised he was right. “You might be right about that.”

O clapped his hands together in delight. “Unlucky in love?”

“Not love. I met someone and I think they could be a good friend. But...you know what I get like.”

“The only reason why you’d overthink it is because you think they could be special. That, in itself, tells you that you should take the plunge, don’t you think?”

“Possibly,” she admitted, seeing the logic in his reasoning. “Why are you helping me with this in the first place? It doesn’t suit your normal character.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m trying to be nice. Maybe I want to see you happy, regardless of the rivalry between us. Maybe I’m tired of that rivalry and think we could work well together.” His words again took her by surprise, not expecting this strange change in his demeanour. “Or...maybe I think this  _ friend _ could be a suitable distraction for you and I’ll swoop in to take your job when you lose focus.” O stood up with a smirk. “You decide.”

Jo shook her head as she watched him leave but she was still unable to stop the small smile growing on her face. She took her phone out again and looked at the screen. And then she hit send.


	8. Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Clara, and Yaz face big decisions and they don't know how to answer. Until strange experiences help them see that it's always been perfectly obvious

Yaz was sitting in the middle of the hive of activity that was her police station, although not strictly a part of it. There was an air of excitement that really didn't befit the Metropolitan police force; one of the senior officers had brought a notorious gang of drug dealers to an end, a fight that had culminated in a standoff in an abandoned warehouse. It sounded like an action sequence taken directly from the latest blockbuster movie and it was Yaz’s dream to be involved in such a bust. Sure, it was probably terrifying and most likely life threatening but she had faith in herself that she’d be able to cope with the pressure. Her name would be on the front of all the newspapers, her supervisor would be forced to congratulate her and she’d be able to use this elevated notoriety to implement some much needed changes to help people. Maybe she would push through legislation to get more officers from minority backgrounds into the force, especially at higher ranking positions. So, the dream wasn’t necessarily being involved in a death defying situation but more about what she could be able to do in the aftermath. A standoff would definitely be cool though. That would be an added bonus.

Instead, she was trying to keep her head down as she sat at her desk, trawling through a mind numbing spreadsheet on her computer screen. She wasn’t important enough to be involved in the celebrations (was that a cake they’d brought in?) and, in a sense, Yaz was content with that. One day, she would be the one surrounded by other officers who were clearly trying to scrounge off of her new importance. It was pathetic really, she thought as she watched them all, staring at Sergeant Pertwee with doe eyes and fake smiles. So much so that she could have laughed if she hadn’t minded their attention to be turned right on her. Instead, she carried on with her menial task, safe in the knowledge that the most exciting thing she had to look forward to that day was the ham and cheese sandwich waiting in her drawer, the one she’d got as part of a meal deal in the local shop (the chocolate biscuit she’d got as well was already gone, being the victim of the appetite a sour mood caused).

She was contemplating whether to make a start on the packet of crisps she’d also bought when she felt a vibration in her jacket pocket. With absolutely no one paying her any attention, she was able to pull her phone out and see what the cause was. Yaz was surprised to see that it was a text from Jo, the last person she had expected to receive a message from (but the one person she had hoped most it would be). For a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to look at it, fearing what it might say. It was an action just as pathetic as the adoring fans congregating around the poor sergeant (who, Yaz noted, was looking increasingly distressed about having all of the limelight). But...what if it was Jo telling her that it wouldn’t be best if they stayed in contact? What if she was moving to some distant country and they’d never be able to see each other again? Or it could be the worst scenario, it being sent wrongly to her, Jo wanting to talk to someone instead. Someone probably much better than Yaz, funnier, prettier.  _ Male _ . Even the thought of it disgusted her. Okay, she was spiralling once again but she had never felt like this before.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the screen and began to smile. It was probably the most rambling she had ever seen in a single text, which was completely adorable. And the main message was that Jo wanted to meet up again, which meant that Yaz hadn’t somehow messed up during the one time they’d been together. That was a miracle in itself. She couldn’t stop grinning as she kept rereading it, as if she were trying to make sure it was real. Jo had even put a  _ kiss _ at the end! Yaz knew that was what some people did all the time but surely it  _ meant _ something. It had to. Her weekends were always free so she didn't have to think about rearranging anything. All she had to do was say yes. It was simple. It was literally a few taps on the screen and they’d be well on their way to doing something together again. Then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to visiting one another’s homes, growing closer, taking holidays together, getting married... _ Spiralling. Again. _

Yaz was about to fire off a quick text to say yes (she was planning on adding a kiss too, to encourage it being done again in the future) when she noticed her supervisor heading in her direction, accompanied by a man who was looking around the place nervously. Her supervisor, Delgado (he had insisted on being on a last name basis only), was a suave looking man, especially when he was in his uniform. Yaz had never seen him in any other form of clothing so that was a rather mute thought to have. His hair was jet black and slicked back, a black and grey goatee beard framing his mouth. She had no clue how old he was even after all this time but she would hazard a guess at mid-fifties. If that was the case, then his skin was looking  _ great _ (she had rightly never said that to him in case he didn't know how to react to such a strange compliment). The man by his side was, in comparison, nothing much to look at, although Yaz didn't like to judge people by their appearances, especially men who were not her interest. He was rather squat and rotund, partially balding. Something about him was familiar, a deep part of her brain screaming at her, but she couldn’t place him. He was also dressed peculiarly, sporting a tweed jacket and bright red pants. It was certainly a look but Yaz had seen much worse on the streets of London. She couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her body as she thought back to the time she had been forced to tackle a drunken woman to the ground, a woman who repeatedly shouted to the world how she was wearing her birthday suit. 

“PC Khan,” Delgado said once they reached her desk. Yaz pushed her phone out of sight, not wanting to be caught wasting time when her sole mission in life was to impress him. “I have a...very important task for you.” At his words, she instantly perked up, wondering whether she was finally going to be given something interesting to do. Maybe this man was the leader of the drug gang the sergeant had just busted and it was down to her to interrogate him. “This man here has come to us in a state of distress, claiming that his wallet has been stolen just outside of the building. If you could take down his report and file it for due process. I’ll leave you to it.”

Yaz practically deflated at the rest of his words, watching him walk away. She was sure that, on the inside, he was doing a maniacal laugh, enjoying how easy it was to torture her. However, Yaz did manage to hide her annoyance as she looked at the...victim. Was that the right word? She smiled and indicated the cheap chair opposite the table, which he promptly took.

“My name’s Toby by the way,” he said, attempting to look at the computer screen to make sure she was doing it properly. “I’m sure you’ll need that information.”

Yaz fought the urge to roll her eyes, as well as resisting the temptation to look back at her phone. “Yes, thanks Toby. Can you go into detail about what happened?”

Toby nodded enthusiastically. “I was just on my way to the shops. I had to go pick up stuff for the week, as usual. I always take this route, you see. And I never drive. Traffic is terrible around here and congestion is bad for the environment. That’s what they’re alway saying on the news anyway. So, I was walking along, minding my own business, thinking about which tin of soup I should get. I was torn between a classic tomato or minestrone, which would be pushing the boat out quite a bit. Then, a thug comes out of nowhere, pushes me to the ground, rifles through my pockets and runs off with my wallet.”

She had only just managed to stay focused as he relayed the dull story. “Did anyone else happen to see this?”

“I’m pretty sure that Londoners are immune to seeing petty crime on the street. Even if it happened right in front of them, they’d be blind to it. This isn’t a slight on the work you do but isn’t it your job to stop crime? The news keeps saying that it’s getting worse.”

“We’re working on it,” Yaz bit out through gritted teeth. “And what was in your wallet? Any credit cards that need to be cancelled?”

He scratched his chin. “Oh, let me think. There was a crisp five pound note, a loyalty card for that local bookstore round the corner, and a photo of my cat.”

Yaz was still looking at the screen, thinking that there would be more to come. Yet, when she glanced in his direction, Toby was looking at her expectantly. She wanted to throttle Delgado for putting her on this case. She was sure that he had done it on purpose. Unconsciously, she looked over at her phone.

“Waiting for someone to call?” Toby asked. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed how quickly he picked up on the small act.

Startled by his question, a small smile crept on her face as she thought about the text she’d received. “I shouldn’t really be on my phone. Or talking about my personal life.”

She received a shrug in response. “I won’t tell anyone. What’s a little secret between friends.”

Yaz didn't need any more of an invitation. “I actually just got a text from someone…”

“Someone you like?”

Despite her insecurities, Yaz nodded straight away. “It’s silly really. We’ve only just met but she’s asked if we can meet up...I was about to answer before.” She didn't know why she was opening up so easily to this stranger. There was definitely something about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Do you know your answer?”

“I don’t know whether I should risk it. I’ve never been good at taking leaps.”

“Oh, poppycock. Young love is such a beautiful thing. Deep down, I can tell there’s only one thing you want to do. So, listen to me...say yes.”

Yaz didn't know why she found it so easy to follow his instruction.

**********

John was certain that he was doing the right thing as he practically raced along the corridors. After his internal debate the day previous, he had spent the evening sitting in his comfiest armchair with a cup of tea that probably had too many spoonfuls of sugar wondering whether he was being a complete and utter idiot. An old fool who believed that the world still wanted to work out for him, who hoped that he hadn’t missed the chance he had at finding someone important. In the end, after mulling things over for what felt like hours...he hadn’t come to any sort of decision. He’d eventually relented and put the darts on tv to distract him (it didn't work, especially since the last match was a whitewash so ended quickly). The night had been spent with him tossing and turning in his bed, the one that was just too large for one person but perfectly sized for a couple, as if it was trying to make fun of him. With painful thoughts of how cowardly he was being, he had slowly fallen asleep, hoping that he would wake up with a clear mind and an exact course of action.

He hadn’t.

The issue was that he hadn’t done anything like this before. How did one go about asking a highly attractive, younger woman on a date? Did you need flowers? Or chocolates? Or were they supposed to wait until the actual date? And that was if she agreed to go in the first place - what if she said no or laughed in his face? A video would go viral of him striking out and he’d have to abandon the civilised world to get some peace. John was sure that Clara wasn’t the sort of person to do that but did you ever really know a person? It was a deep philosophical question that he didn't have time to delve into but it did remind him of something important. He had only known this amazing woman for a few weeks, maybe a month. Why was he so enamoured with her then? He wasn’t the type of person to believe in love at first sight because, from what he’d seen, it took a whole lot of effort to make a relationship work. But this was possibly the closest you could get to such a phenomenon. And, anyway, in the digital age, a few weeks were an eternity - he’d heard on the news that a couple had got engaged after a week following their match on a dating website so was he really being that quick about this? It was all down to whether Clara felt the same way, as impossible a notion as that sounded.

Hoping that the fresh air would help him reach a decision more easily, John had chosen to walk to the university that day. He had set off earlier than usual, underestimating how fast he could actually walk when he wasn’t thinking about it. If he hadn't done all of this, if he had set off even half an hour later, he probably wouldn’t have bumped into the man on the street, who was dressed like a detective from the 1930s. He was all in grey; grey trousers, grey woollen long coat, even a grey fedora. John had wondered whether he was going to some sort of event in the city (did they have events for detective enthusiasts and would they be put on at such an early hour?). The thought had quickly left his mind when the two of them walked into one another, sending them tumbling to the ground. John had apologised to the man profusely as he dusted himself off - he had to look presentable if he was going to ask her the biggest question of his life - and explained why he was in such a state of hurry. 

And then the strangest thing had happened. The man, the stranger, had smiled and asked why that was the case. And, before John could think about what he was doing, he was spilling all of the information. How he had met a brilliant woman by sheer chance and now didn't want to waste such a golden opportunity. How he was still scared about asking her and worried she would reject him straight away. John had no idea why he was telling the detective enthusiast this story; it was something about his face, so familiar that it was beginning to annoy John that he couldn’t quite place him. The man listened and, when the tale was over, he smiled and patted John on the shoulder. He said that it was quite obvious what he had to do if she  _ was _ as perfect as he’d described. With a tip of his hat, he had been on his way, leaving John to process this revolutionary revelation (it really couldn’t be described as such but, to John at that time, it was the biggest piece of advice he’d ever received). He had turned around, wanting to thank the stranger for his help, but he was nowhere in sight, vanished along with his grey coat.

How strange the event was hadn't quite dawned upon John, so filled with excitement and nervous energy he was. Breathless when he reached the university, he hadn’t stopped as he raced through the history department, throwing his bag and coat into his office. Sarah Jane had shouted at him for being so unprofessional, asking why he was acting weirder than usual. John hadn’t listened to her in the slightest - he was too intent on getting to Clara’s building. As he ran (he shortened it to a fast walk when any people were around him), he envisaged the most momentous asking for a date ever seen. There would be a banner, a flurry of confetti, a marching band and a whole team of dancers. In reality, he ended up walking directly into the woman he was looking for.

Clara had had a strange morning, to say the least. After her discussion with Ryan, she had been sure that the best option was to show her hand and hope that John’s cards matched (she knew that wasn’t how any game of cards worked but it made sense for the analogy). Then, as the hours ticked by, she would look at her phone and that sense of bravery began to leave her, a sense of defeat hanging over her. She had hoped that, by some miracle, John would call and make her life easier but that hadn’t come to fruition. The morning had come with no call or message, just the blaring of her alarm clock. Which was the start of the weird events because it had gone off an hour earlier than she’d set it. At least it gave her some time to think and, unusual for her, she had decided to get ready for the day and ride to the university at the early hour. If she had made any other decision, if she had thought it would be nice to get a morning chat with Grace at the cafe like she’d done on her first day, then it was probable that she wouldn’t have come across the cleaner in the university plaza.

He had been waxing the floor with one of those massive machines that Clara had always wanted to ride. He was dressed in a blue boiler suit and she was sure that she had never seen him around before. He was likely on the morning shift, which explained her never laying eyes on him. It made so much sense in her head when she thought about it. No one else had been there, again because of the ungodly time, which meant he quickly spotted her. Straight away, he had asked her why she was in so early, looking at her curiously. He said that no one ever came in at that time. She could have lied. She could have said that she was working on a new thesis or research paper that required more time to complete. But, for some weird reason, she had seen fit to tell him everything. The way she felt about John (Clara didn't name him to avoid any further embarrassment) and how she felt like a stupid teenager for being so indecisive. The cleaner, without at any point jumping off from the machine to have a normal conversation, told her that it was perfectly reasonable to have those doubts. He said that love was just like the cleanest floor in the world - once you found it, you had to work at it to preserve it. If she felt that she wanted to put the effort in with the man who had caught her fancy, then that answered all of her questions.

Clara had never imagined that an analogy about cleaning would help her make such a huge decision but nothing had made sense recently. She had attempted to hug him, which had proven awkward with him still being on the machine, before running off. She had raced through her department, pausing to neatly place her belongings in her office, before continuing her pursuit. Clara knew by instinct where the history block was, which showed her just how much trouble she really was in. As she had rounded a corner, it was then that she went straight into the man she was looking for. They held onto each other for support, their arms wrapped around one another. They couldn’t speak. The words they wanted to say just wouldn’t form properly.

Then John smiled. And Clara smiled at him. Neither one could hold eye contact for very long with how nervous they were feeling. Clearing his throat, John reluctantly untangled himself from her grasp, immediately wishing to be that close to her again. Clara, meanwhile, was playing with her hair in an agitated fashion, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. She looked expectantly at him.

“Clara…” he began, looking at the floor. “Well, this is...a pleasant surprise. I was actually looking for you.”

“Funny. I was doing exactly the same,” she responded. “Care to tell me why you were looking for me?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I asked you first.”

John knew he was in trouble. By the rules of the playground, whoever asked first always had the superiority and the upper hand. And Clara didn't look like she was going to give it up easily. “Well...I had a question for you. Not the usual question I shoot at you, about work or the news. Um...it’s about us.”

Her eyes imperceptibly widened as her eyebrows raised. She only just managed to stop the widest smile spreading on her face. “Go on.”

He just had to get it over with and face the consequences. “I think that we get on well together, even after such a short time.”

“I’d agree.”

“So I was wondering whether that meant we could get on  _ well _ together.” He emphasised the ‘well’ as if it explained everything. “As in...um...look, I’m not very good at this, as you can see. If I was doing it properly, I’d have flowers for you and there’d be a marching band...it looked great in my head...so just try and imagine it like that.” He paused for a second as Clara placed a hand on his arm, giving him an encouraging smile as well. He cleared his throat.  _ No backing down now. _ “Would you like to go out sometime, in a less professional setting?”

“As in a date?” Clara knew that she was torturing the poor soul but it was an opportunity she couldn’t resist.

“If that’s what the young kids call it nowadays.”

She could have taken time to think about it, drawn it out to prolong his misery. But she decided to answer straight away. “Yes. Yes, John Smith. I would like nothing more.”

**********

Was she making a massive mistake? Yaz was standing in front of a door to a tall and rather fancy looking apartment building. It was in one of the nicer parts of London, for people who had money. And when she said money, she meant  _ a lot _ of money. The sort of money where you can buy lobster without a second thought because that’s what all rich people ate in Yaz’s head. She nervously tilted her head up, looking up at the tower block. You couldn’t even see the top, it was that tall, piercing through the grey clouds. She wondered which window would show Jo’s home. It was probably right at the very top, the most expensive and luxurious. And that was what was scaring Yaz. They were living in two different worlds really, even if Jo acted like that wasn’t the case. Was Yaz cut out for this sort of life? She looked down at the outfit she was wearing, a simple and casual selection consisting of black jeans and a white shirt. It was nothing fancy (they were, after all, planning on just staying in for the evening) but she felt that she looked nice. Was nice good enough? Would she open the door and find Jo wearing a ball gown or something? She really needed to sort out her vision of what a rich person was. She knew that she was overthinking everything, like she always tended to do. That was down to how well she wanted this to go, again adding to her nerves. Was this even a date? No, it was simply two friends...hanging out. That’s what Jo had described it as so there was no point in getting her hopes up. They would no doubt have a lovely time and that’s what was important at the end of the day. Anything else was always going to be a bonus. 

She needed to be braver than this. She was Yasmin bloody Khan, for goodness sake. She could do anything. She could rugby tackle a man three times her size to the ground if she needed to (it had never come up before as a situation but she had a gut feeling that she could do it). She could easily press the button in front of her to tell Jo that she was here. Her finger moved before she could think about it and the machine made a small buzzing sound. She was properly panicking now. She should have brought more food (a tube of Pringles and a bag of chocolates were stuffed into her bag) or a bottle of wine. She could run away, pretend this had never happened, and hope that the cameras didn't pick her up. All of these thoughts went through her head in the few seconds it took for Jo to respond. She asked who it was, Yaz found the courage to answer, and then the most marvellous of things happened. Jo sounded positively excited that she was there. And all the worries that had been troubling Yaz simply disappeared as she realised that, no matter what Jo’s life was like compared to hers, she wanted to spend time with her. Everything else didn't matter in the slightest.

There was a short elevator ride up to Jo’s floor (32nd, if you’re wondering. Not too high to be obnoxious but not too low to be looked down upon. Figuratively and literally). She was nervously waiting outside the door to greet Yaz, practically bouncing with energy. She waved enthusiastically when Yaz appeared, giving her a small hug in greeting that Yaz wished had lasted longer. She really needed to get control over her desires if the evening was to go smoothly. 

“It’s so good to see you!” Jo enthused with a large smile. “I’m glad you could make it. I know it was sort of short notice…”

“Really, you don’t have to worry about that,” Yaz was quick to say, not wanting the other woman to fuss. “I don’t think I’ve had plans for at least a year. Just a little heads up if you want to do this again.” She had no idea where the confidence had come from to say that but Jo seemed to like the sound of it, nodding her head vigorously. Yaz found it completely and utterly adorable how full of energy she was. It was infectious.

She was led into the large apartment suite and she did well not to let her jaw drop to the floor. It was amazing and made Yaz’s place look like a painted cardboard box. The walls were covered in a lacquered wood, making it seem like it wasn’t actually in a skyscraper in London. Golden lights hung from the ceiling, bathing the large room in a warm, cosy glow. There were a few paintings on the wall, some more photos like the ones Yaz had spotted on her desk at work. The sofa looked extremely comfy, especially with the blankets thrown over it. And the view...Yaz had never really thought of London as a beautiful place. That usually was used to describe a quaint little village in the countryside somewhere. But, as she stepped towards the glass, looking past the balcony, she had to admit that it was gorgeous as the sun set, sending a crimson kiss across the sky. Or maybe it was just down to the setting she was in, the woman she was with.

“I’ve got the oven going,” Jo said. Now they were inside, she appeared to not know what to do, fiddling with her hands and standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “I didn't really know what you liked so I made a few things to cover all bases.”

Yaz arched an eyebrow. “And by a few things, you mean…”

Jo looked at the floor, shuffling her feet against the wooden floor. “Well, I started off by making a lasagne. Then there was a nice fish dish I’ve been meaning to try. Oh, and the pizza. I thought that pizza was always a crowd pleaser.”

“You’re being serious?”

“...yes? There’s also the dessert. A salted caramel panna cotta. That was just a quick thing I did, not too much effort.”

Yaz stared at her in stunned fascination, beginning to make Jo a little nervous. Before a beaming smile spread over the guest’s face. “You are brilliant! Do you know that?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I had some time on my hands and I’d finished my book.” She was definitely trying to hide the blush on her cheeks.

“No. That all sounds amazing. I don’t think I can even spell panna cotta.”

Jo was about to tell her when she realised that it was a joke. “So...what do you want to do?”

“I was going to leave that up to you.” Yaz started walking towards where she could see a dining table, presuming that was where they would be sitting for the meal.

Jo looked at her curiously. “Where are you going?”

“I...just thought...if we’re eating…”

She waved a hand. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine with us eating on the sofa. Unless you’re a messy eater.” She tilted her head slightly, peering at her friend. “Are you a messy eater?”

Yaz didn't think she had ever been asked that question and had no clue how to answer. “...I don’t think so?”

“Good,” Jo said, that smile returning once again. “The sofa it is. We can put on a movie.”

The food had been ready shortly after. With no one around to judge them, they chose to take a sample from all the dishes. Each one was just as delicious as the other, Yaz declared through a mouthful of pizza. Jo had laughed at that, leaning over to wipe away some tomato sauce on her cheek with a napkin. The action had taken Yaz by surprise, not expecting it to feel so...intimate. She had closed her eyes and, when she opened them again, had found Jo smiling softly at her. She had quickly averted her gaze when she was caught but Yaz couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Once the food was done with, they’d focused more on the film. Yaz found it hard to focus on anything else other than her companion. There had initially been quite a large gap between them when they’d first sat on the sofa, both of them being too nervous to get close. But, as the evening progressed and they chatted as the movie played on, long forgotten, they subconsciously started moving closer to one another. Thinking she was being clever and sneaky, Yaz had made up that there was a slight chill in the room. Jo had been all too happy to get one of the blankets and wrap it around her. She had looked hopefully towards her, wanting to ask that next question. It represented the next small step in their relationship, even if it seemed innocuous. Yaz had moved her arm up, inviting Jo to move under the blanket too. As they snuggled (neither had ever snuggled before but found that it was the greatest thing ever invited), Yaz felt that she was on a cloud, which was possibly the corniest thing she had ever thought. When she snuck a quick glance at the woman lying on her, she knew that she didn't care one bit. 

“Do you get a lot of days off?” Yaz wondered.

Jo shifted her head to look up at her. She hadn’t realised how close they actually were.  _ Move a little bit further up and their faces would be next to each other. _ “Not really. This weekend was an anomaly. I’ve never really had a need for days off, you know what I mean? I’ve never had someone to spend time with. It’s always been work and helping people.”

“So...you’re saying that you have a lot of days saved up?”

“I guess I have. Like I said, I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Meaning that you could take more days off...and do this more often.”

“Are you trying to ask whether we can do this again, miss Khan?”

The way she said it made Yaz’s insides do a strange flip. What was happening to her? “Maybe I am. That depends on your answer, miss Smith.”

“Tonight, even though we haven’t done anything traditionally seen as spectacular, has been the most fun I’ve had in years. To me, it has been spectacular and amazing and...every other synonym you can think of. Go pass me a dictionary and I’ll list them all.”

“So your answer is…”

Jo smacked her lightly on the arm. “You know what my answer is but you’re just messing with me. Yes. I would love to do this again. Every night if I could. Yasmin Khan, you have no idea what you’ve got yourself into, dear.”

“Well then...I’m excited to find out what exactly that is.”


	9. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Clara go on their date, both worrying that they're not good enough for the other

Today was  _ the _ day. The week had passed at both an agonisingly slow rate and an astonishingly fast rate for John, who was finding that the more excited he got about his date with Clara, the more nervous he became.  _ Date _ . Who would have ever thought that John Smith would find himself on an actual, real life date. He had only told Sarah Jane about it, mainly because she had been asking too many questions about his peculiar behaviour. It was easier than making up some lie that he’d come down with a strange sickness. He’d had to get through a couple of lectures, which he would normally have found as interesting as ever but he hadn’t been able to concentrate on the inner workings of the Ancient Roman political system. Every thought he had somehow came back to today and what they were doing. He would call it an obsession if he was being honest with himself yet he reassured his troubled mind with the fact that  _ everyone _ had an obsession or an addiction. Rock stars had alcohol and drugs. Teens trying to disappoint their parents had smoking and late night parties. He’d heard a lot about elite cyclists having performance enhancing substances. So was this really that unhealthy? In comparison, he was incredibly lucky, in more ways than one.

John looked in the mirror of the bathroom, running a hand over his face. When had so many lines appeared in his skin? Was there a way to get rid of them so that Clara wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with him? He pulled his skin back to make it taught and, although the lines were temporarily gone, he instead looked like something from a Halloween movie. He guessed that the more lines you had, the more you’d lived. That’s what Sarah said anyway. He hoped his date would see it in that way too. She hadn’t been put off by them yet so why was he fussing so much? Because something had changed when she’d agreed, he told himself. Now it was no longer a dangerous friendship filled with flirtatious remarks that they didn't actually see as flirting. He was facing something that could be serious and he was terrified about that. But he was also equally as eager to see what happened. Since the prospect of having something serious with Clara Oswald sounded like the perfect dream.

He pulled at his hair, frowning. He’d let his silver curls grow in recent years and it had reached the point where his hair was the longest it had ever been. Was it bordering on unruly or unkempt? He felt that it gave him a wild look, which he was always in favour of. And it detracted from his bushy eyebrows that tended to give people the wrong message. John had once heard a group of students gossiping and they reckoned that he was a rather angry person. He had wanted to tell them that he was actually a nice and kind hearted soul before realising that was a weird thing to say in public. At least they hadn’t scared Clara off so far. And he was sure that he had caught her staring at his hair a few times in the past. If she liked it, then he planned on keeping it forever. John had shaved though to get rid of any stubble from his chin. It had been a long time since he’d gone through a beard phase and there was definitely no going back.

He moved into his bedroom, facing his most difficult decision. Standing still in the middle of the room, John stared at the open wardrobe. There were dozens of outfits inside that he could choose but he needed the  _ perfect _ outfit to impress Clara. Just imagine if he turned up and she was wearing the most luxurious dress ever invented, whilst he was clad in denim overalls and a chequered shirt. Okay, he knew he was never going to wear that but the point still stood. It was all about making sure Clara was happy to be seen with him. What did people wear on dates? The restaurant he had booked wasn’t the fanciest in London (Clara had expressly told him that she had no interest in five star dining - she would much prefer a burger anytime) but was he still supposed to wear a suit? He pulled the one he owned out from the wooden cabinet, his lips joined in a pout. It was a nice ensemble - it had been the most he’d ever spent on clothing before - and he tried to think why he hadn’t worn it since Sarah Jane’s wedding. The answer was simple; he just hadn’t had any occasion or event to go to that required a suit. There had been no social events, no parties. He looked at the suit again, seeing the discreet red lining that he had requested when it had been tailored. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this properly. He might only have one shot to wow Clara Oswald and he was damned if he was going to miss it.

After he had put the suit on and tied the black tie around his neck, John stole another glance in the mirror. So he still fit in it, which was nice to know. He turned around a couple of times, nervously observing to see if it looked alright. He ran a brush through his hair, making it even puffier than usual. With one last glance, he let out a small sigh and headed for the door.

**********

When was the last time she had been on a date? Clara couldn’t remember the answer. A lot of people had asked, don’t get her wrong. But, for some reason, she had always found a reason to say no. Maybe she still had that fairytale notion in her head that she should wait for the perfect man (or woman, she really wasn’t fussy) and maybe she had just known that each potential candidate hadn’t been the one. So why had she so easily agreed when John asked? Based on her thoughts, it meant that she believed he was the...okay, there was no need to say that just yet. There was rushing things and then there was  _ rushing _ things. She didn't need to scare him off by immediately saying that she was in love with him and had only agreed because she saw a very promising future with him. She wouldn’t say that out loud at least, even if those sorts of thoughts had been creeping into her head the closer the day of the date came. Clara had been convincing herself that she had said yes because they got on very well, because he made her laugh, because their conversations were always easy and entertaining. It definitely had nothing to do with the warm feeling in her stomach whenever she was with him or the way she felt when she caught him sneaking a glance at her. 

There was one worry that Clara had and it had nothing to do with her choosing not to go. She was dead set on the idea and was more than excited to see where the evening took them. It was the fact that Clara knew John, even after only a month. She knew that, although he didn't say it, he worried about being good enough. She had agreed because she wanted to, not out of pity, but she had an inkling that he would likely not see it like that. Mainly because he was a massive idiot (weren’t all men inherently fools?). So, her task for the evening was to show him how much she wanted to be there. Because, if it went well, she wanted to do it again. And again after that. That sounded like a relationship and she was surprised with how content she was with the idea. A relationship involved spending time with one another when you weren’t strictly doing anything. And the prospect of sitting around the fire whilst they both read was still one she wanted to happen.

If Clara had heard anyone else talk in such a sappy fashion, she might have been sick. This wasn’t her. She had never been head over heels for someone before. There had never been any instances of her looking at someone with doe eyes, wanting to cling onto their arm all the time. When people in school had started dating, she had always been the one to say that it would never last (she was right but no one ever wanted to hear that). It was strange what love could do to someone. There was that infernal word again.  _ Love _ . How could you possibly know when you loved someone for real? From the films she’d watched, it was when you could no longer imagine your life without that person in it. It was actually quite terrifying how quickly John had taken that role in her life.

Clara had had a shower and had already dried her hair, wanting to be organised. She really did pride herself on her time management skills. John was coming round to pick her up (she had offered to take them on her motorcycle but John had insisted that they leave that until at least the second date, which had filled her with immense hope) so she wanted to be ready and perfect for when he arrived. What she really wanted was for his jaw to drop to the floor when he saw her. She had applied a modest amount of makeup, nothing too over the top (John, in an act of unusual bravery, had once said that she didn't need any makeup so she felt more confident in going with a minimal look). Her lips were coloured a light pink, her eyes framed by a shadowy blackness. Her hair was tied up in a bun, a few curled tendrils falling down either side of her face to frame it. As she looked in the mirror, she had to admit that she looked good. But there was still one thing she needed to clinch the deal. Clara opened the wardrobe and instantly found what she was looking for. She had already planned what she was wearing (come on, who left that to the last minute?) and a small smile appeared as she looked at it.

The dress was as gorgeous as she remembered it. She had bought it one Christmas as a gift from Linda. That had saved her from the usual last minute buy she normally got from her. It was a dark blue number that went just past her knees (not too short to garner unwanted attention but short  _ enough _ to get her date thinking). The straps had a pattern cut out from them, showing some more bare skin. What could she say? She was feeling confident. That was until the doorbell to her apartment chimed through. 

She was by the door in an instant but hesitated when it came to opening it. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on the door handle. Maybe it was just a delivery, maybe there was no need to be panicking. And was there any need to panic if it was John? She was meant to be excited, thrilled even. Why couldn’t she be filled with those sorts of emotions? Because the human mind was a cruel creation and thrived on torture. But, if she left it any longer, John would think that she wasn’t in and the date would never happen and her life would lose a bright spark. A determined look appeared on her face as she opened the door.

It was safe to say that Clara got what she wanted. As soon as John had seen her, in that blue dress with the fancy straps, he gaped in awe, his brain finding it impossible to make him talk. No words could describe what he was feeling as his eyes found hers, no words could do her justice. What Clara hadn’t expected was to be equally as stunned by his appearance. In his black suit, he cut a refined figure, more composed and suave than the mad professor she had first met. There was the same nervous smile though, the familiar fidgeting of his hands as he didn't know what to do with them. He held a bouquet of flowers in his hand, seemingly forgotten as he still processed the magnificent sight of her. They were a mix of white and red, a sophisticated arrangement. She noted one slender rose emerging from the centre. Clara smiled, unable to remember the last time anyone had gotten her flowers. She was definitely sure that no one had ever turned up to her home in a suit. 

“You...look...absolutely stunning,” John eventually managed to say. Had he ever called a woman stunning before? He hardly ever complimented people in the first place. But he knew that Clara  _ deserved _ to understand how truly gorgeous she was. Why was she going on a date with him again?

“I was going to say the same thing. I never expected you to be wearing an actual suit. I didn't think you’d own one.”

“Is it too much?” he asked nervously, looking down at his clothes. “I could go back and change if I need to.” He slapped a hand against his forehead in frustration. “I knew I should have chosen something different.”

Alarmed at how he’d taken her comment, Clara quickly dragged his arm down, choosing not to let it go. “I love it. You look very dashing, I must say. I think we may turn a few heads tonight.”

John couldn’t hide the giddy, childlike grin that spread on his lips, even if he knew that everyone would only have eyes for her. He was fine with that; he was the lucky man who got to  _ talk _ to her, not just look. What had he done in life to deserve this? He didn't see himself as an especially religious man but he was willing to thank any and every god there was for this moment. In truth, they didn't even need to go on the date. He’d die a happy man with just this memory in his head.

“Are those for me?” she wondered, gesturing to the flowers to wake him from his momentary pause. 

His eyes widened in realisation, thrusting them towards her face eagerly. “Well, it would be awkward if I’d gotten them for someone else.”

She took them off him, smiling as she buried her head in them, taking in the pleasant aroma. “They’re gorgeous.”

“Then they might just match up to you,” he found himself saying. When had he learned to flirt like that? The only possible explanation was that this was definitely not him and he was being controlled by some suave, smooth, James Bond-esque character. But the way her smile widened at his comment made him glad that he had been the one to say it.

“John Smith, you are certainly a flatterer. If you carry on, I’ll be blushing throughout the entire evening.” Clara moved away from the door, searching for something to put the flowers in. They deserved her best vase, if she had one of those. 

John took a few steps into the apartment, not wanting to wander fully in and be seen to be invading her privacy. “Challenge accepted,” he said loudly as she wandered into the kitchen. He glanced around the room, taking in how neat and organised it was. One wall was covered completely by a large wooden bookshelf, filled with rows of books that he had no doubt would be stored away in alphabetical order, or some system like that. A modest television sat on a set of drawers, plants potted either side of the screen. The coffee table that was placed in front of the red sofa was littered with sheets of paper and books, presumably work from the day before. John wanted to take a look at what she was reading and writing, to get an insight into the way she thought. But he remained by the door stiffly, like a statue. Telling himself to be the perfect gentlemen. He busied himself with brushing down his suit every so often, removing creases that weren’t there.

Clara eventually reemerged with the flowers in a large blue vase. Biting her lip at the sight of the table, she shoved some of the paper out of the way, setting the bouquet down in the centre. She stared happily at them for a second more before turning around to face him once again. She rolled her eyes at how awkward he looked. “You know you could have taken a seat whilst you waited. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Ah, but there was always the chance that you  _ would _ mind so I thought it best not to take the risk.” The logic made perfect sense in his head.

“I’d be tempted to say that you’re overthinking things,” she commented, walking up to him. She slung a small black purse over her shoulder. “This is just like the other times we’ve been out together. Like when we went to the cafe. Were you fretting then?”

“Yes,” he immediately said, nodding his head as if it were obvious. 

“Yeah, so was I.” 

She didn't see the way his eyebrows raised at her throwaway comment or sense the way it gave him a jolt of confidence. If Clara had wanted it to go well, could that mean she felt even remotely the same way? The fact that they were about to go on a date had done little to quell those fears he had but the fact that she was nervous too, or at least had been at one point...he was starting to believe that it was possible. Hope was the thing that killed you, he reminded himself. He hated his mind sometimes.

“But that went well, didn't it?” Clara pressed on, unaware of the inner turmoil going on within him. “Tonight is exactly the same, apart from the fact that we’re dressed very nice and the food will be ten times the price. But I think we can afford some luxuries every so often, when it’s worth it.”

“Then...if you’re ready…” He offered her his outstretched arm and, despite the roll of her eyes she gave him, Clara took it immediately. There was definitely no going back now. And neither of them remotely wanted to.

The car journey wasn’t particularly long (John had picked a restaurant near to where Clara lived for her ease). Although a silence sometimes descended between them, there was nothing awkward about it. It was comfortable even, similar to the other times they’d been alone together. Sometimes John would risk a glance in her direction, like he was making sure she was still actually there (he had no idea where she would go, an image of her jumping from the moving vehicle in a desperate attempt to escape running through his head), and Clara would catch him, a mischievous grin on her face. The dress appeared to be working, capturing his attention. Sometimes, it would be the other way around, John catching Clara staring. She would look away quickly, this time a blush on her face. Then he would look at her and be utterly sucked in by how adorable she appeared and the cycle would begin again. It was like a game they were playing. Who could look the longest without being found out. 

The restaurant they arrived at was a small Italian, one of those family-owned establishments that were hidden gems in the city. John had known that there was no chance he was taking her to a chain franchise on a first date. He had some common sense, after all. McDonald's would always be for a fourth date. 

As he focused on finding a space in the cramped car park, Clara looked at it excitedly. “How did you know this place even existed?”

John gave a nonchalant shrug. “When you live here for a certain time, you get to know the secrets it holds. There’ll be no tourists in here, mark my words. I have a friend who works here so he was able to get us a table. He could hardly believe that I’d managed to convince someone to go on a date with me.”

“Well, we’ll show him. I’ll make a big show of clinging onto your arm and laughing at your jokes if you want.”

With the car parked and the engine off, John stared at the wheel in silence, not responding to her words. Instead, he proceeded to mess with his hands again, giving off an air of nervous energy. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

Her brow furrowed as she looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

John couldn’t find the strength to look at her. “Making a show of it...getting people’s attention...I didn't know whether you’d want people to know you were here with me. On a date. Someone like you normally gets the attention of young, athletic men, the ones who enjoy walking around topless.”

“Someone like me?” she asked dangerously, an angry element to her voice. “John, I chose to say yes to this. No one made me do it. You’re not going to find out that this is all some sort of prank. I don’t want someone young or athletic. I want someone who has shown me sincere kindness from the first moment we met, someone who’s intelligent and witty and a little bit scary. I want to go on a date with John Smith, professor of History, the man who really pulls off a suit. Do you understand?” She smirked when he shyly and obediently nodded his head. “Good.” She opened the car door and began to get out. “But if you do want to walk around topless, you won’t find me complaining.” She was out of the car before he could comprehend what she’d said, faintly hearing his embarrassed sputtering.

Once he had got out too, he looked over the car roof to glare at her, only being met with a wide smile. He hated how a smirk briefly flickered on his face and how he could tell she knew that meant she’d won. John was happier when she moved to be by his side once again, locking her arm with his as they walked to the entrance. Inside, the restaurant was bathed in a warm red hue, soft instrumental music playing. It was exactly the place she’d expect John to go if he ever went out for a meal. It was rather busy, the sounds of idle chatter and cutlery clinking against plates ringing out around them, which explained why he’d had to call on a favour to get a table. A bald, somewhat plump man approached when they walked in, dressed in a smart black outfit. His eyes were wide as he took in Clara by John’s side, pointing a finger at the couple.

“You never told me your date was attractive!” he said, a bit too loudly for their liking. 

“Would you have believed me even if I said she was?” John shot back with a knowing look.

“Touche.” He leant closer to Clara, his round glasses slipping towards the end of his nose. “If he has kidnapped you or is holding you to ransom...blink twice. I know a certain type of aikido so I’d be able to take him down.”

Clara looked between the waiter and John. “I’m presuming this is the friend you mentioned.”

“Clara, Nardole. Nardole, Clara. Now we’re introduced, can we get shown to our table. Mainly so you can leave us alone.” John wasn’t that surprised when Clara hit him lightly for his grumpiness. 

“Trust you to be rude after I pull a few strings for you,” Nardole grumbled, his arms crossed petulantly. “But what should I expect when it comes to you? You’ve never treated me with respect.”

“I’ll give you a huge tip if you hurry up with your whining.” 

Nardole promptly shut his mouth, picked up two menus, and led them over to a corner of the room where a booth was already set up. Clara thought it looked gorgeous, small golden lights dangling down from the ceiling to give them their own sense of ambience. It was away from everyone else, the noise levels dropping as they sat down. She gave John an impressed look; he responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Best table in the house,” he pointed out with pride. “Only the best for Miss Clara Oswald. Spared no expense.”

“You could have taken me anywhere and I would have been happy, I hope you realise that,” she joked as they ordered drinks and perused their menus. All of the food sounded heavenly and Clara was finding it difficult to choose. She wondered what John was going to have, hoping that she’d get to try some of it. Unless he was someone who didn't like sharing. She’d find a way.

“Ah, and I had the perfect park bench at hand where we could have shared chips.”

“Is it bad that I think that sounds rather nice? As long as it isn’t raining.” She was planning on getting the chicken. But the fish sounded nice. And, dear lord, there were at least a few chapters on pasta. “You can take me there next time.” She had said it without thinking as she focused on what to get, not seeing John’s reaction.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” He sounded so small and insecure, like he really needed to know her answer. In a way, he  _ really did _ need to know. Because then he’d be smiling even more throughout the night than he already was.

Clara glanced up from where she was reading, her mouth slightly open as her cheeks coloured a pinkish hue. “Well...I mean...I didn't want to jump to conclusions...but...I’ve enjoyed myself so far. If you don’t...want to…”

John reached across the table and placed a warm hand over hers, making her stop. “Now who’s the one fretting?” He was rather smug and happy with himself, she could tell, for turning her words against her. As an English lecturer, it was the worst of fates. “If the possibility of a second date...followed by a third, and fourth, and so on...is there, I’m going to grasp it with both hands. But let’s enjoy tonight first.”

The meal was as good as any Clara could remember having, although she placed that mainly on the company she was in. In truth, eating had come second fiddle to talking and having a laugh with John. She had managed to steal some of his food like she’d hoped, pinching a forkful of his lasagna when he wasn’t looking. When he had noticed the chunk missing, he had looked at her accusingly but, when she had pouted, his knees had felt weak and he’d been unable to complain any longer. They were tucked away in their little corner, their own small section of London. Away from the buzz of life, away from work, away from everyone they knew. Just the two of them. It was perfect. Clara hadn’t found it as easy to talk to someone about  _ nothing _ as she did with her date. He was often sarcastic and disparaging about topics, in a fashion that always made her smile and laugh. And he would begrudgingly smile when she countered his points, which she did regularly. They had even been brave enough to share a dessert, a chocolate fudge cake with extra ice cream (thanks to Nardole). John had given her most of the ice cream and the end of the cake when she’d commented that it was her favourite part - if that wasn’t love, then Clara didn't know what was. 

All too quickly, they were back at her block of apartments, the two of them standing by the main entrance. The night sky above them was black and expansive, dots of dazzling stars twinkling. There was a slight chill when the breeze blew in their direction but Clara wasn’t intending to bring it up. She was willing to stay outside for as long as possible to spend time with him. She should invite him in, she kept debating. But what would he think of her, doing that after just one date? They weren’t going to do  _ anything _ , she reasoned. And it was the twenty-first century so she could do what she wanted without facing judgement. 

“This has been one of the best nights since I moved to London,” she told him. They stood awkwardly in front of one another, not knowing what to do now. John had no idea whatsoever on what social protocol dictated here. “No.  _ The _ best night, hands down. Congratulations.”

He did a small, theatrical bow in response. She smiled at how much of a geek he was; it was another endearing quality. “Well, I aim to please. And if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Although I probably should have ordered the lasagna. That tasted very nice,” she added with a cheeky grin.

“Just you wait until I steal some of your food, Doctor Oswald. Vengeance will be sweet. Or savoury, I’m not picky.” His own sarcastic smile matched hers and Clara knew that there would be no end to her thinking about him.

“I’d like to see you try. If I have to stab you with a fork, I will do it. Food is a very serious subject for me.” She couldn’t hold her serious look for long, bursting into a quick fit of laughter. When she composed herself, Clara caught John looking at her with a sincerity that took her by surprise. It was intense, smouldering, affectionate. “So...I’m hoping I haven’t been too disastrous a date to put you off another?” She was nervous now. There was no reason for him to say no but there was still a chance he would, in her own head at least.

“I was going to ask the same. I wasn’t too awkward or anything?”

“Not at all. If I didn't know you, I’d think you were a natural who did this thing all the time. Unless you’re not telling me something…”

“I can safely assure you that you’re my first date in at least a couple of decades.”

She frowned at that. “If I can ask...what made you break that cycle with me?”

John smiled softly at her. “I just knew straight away that you were something special. No one else I’ve met has ever had the effect you have had on me. Hidden amongst seven billion people, some force brought you to me. And it made those years of waiting worth it.”

She was practically speechless once he finished, unashamed that there were a few unshed tears in her eyes. Clara stepped forward as she told herself to be brave, reached up on tiptoes, closed her eyes, and planted her lips on his. It was sweet and soft, caring and loving. He was shy at first, unsure as to what to do. She held him close as the kiss deepened. It was nothing deep or scandalous but it took her breath away all the same. When she eventually parted (she hadn’t wanted to but the human need for oxygen can get quite annoying), she nervously smiled at him, only to see that he was in a state of stunned silence.

_ Clara Oswald _ had just kissed  _ him _ ! His brain was on shutdown. Life would never be better. There was no point in even trying anymore. Subconsciously, his hand reached up to his lips where they still tingled from her touch.

“Good night, John. Thank you for making me feel special.”

“Thank you for exactly the same.”


	10. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're finding that the positives of the new reality are hard to resist as, back on the Tardises, the Dream Lord pushes them closer to the edge

Clara found herself in the large armchair on the balcony of the console room as she woke up, her legs curled up underneath her. The shelves of books were just as messy as she remembered, probably even more so. Her vision was slightly dizzy as she adjusted to the different surroundings. How had she got to this spot? She couldn’t remember falling asleep in the chair and she sincerely doubted that she had walked up the steps in her sleep. Clara frowned as one set of memories overlapped another, images of teaching and lectures and dates...soon replaced with the thought of that smirking man who had appeared in the Tardis somehow. Where was he now? Was he still with them somewhere, waiting, biding his time? She had to place a cool palm on her forehead as her mind thrummed and ached, a throbbing pain ricocheting around in her skull. She tried to get up at one point but she underestimated how bad the sensation was, being taken over by a nauseating feeling. Clara quickly came to the conclusion that she hated inter-reality travel, if that was what they were actually doing. The Doctor would know, would be able to explain it all to her. In that way he did, where he tried to pretend he was disgruntled at the fact his time was being taken up but he was, in fact, incredibly eager to show off his intelligence. The only problem was that, from where she was, there was no sight of the Time Lord. 

When she eventually managed to stand up and take a few steps away from the comfy chair without feeling like she was on some sort of sinking ship, Clara spotted him bent over the console. As she leant against the metal railing, she thought for a second that he was still asleep like she had been but she noticed a small movement of his hand. He was obviously trying to fix something, which was the common thing to do when something had evidently gone seriously wrong. That throbbing sensation came back with a vengeance. Images blurred into one in her head as they flickered past, a strange movie that had been sped up. She had been wearing a dress, the blue one she had never touched since that date with Danny. Anything that reminded her of him, she had pushed away out of sight, the memories too painful. So why had her subconscious brought it back to life? Was it really her subconscious? The Doctor had said it was a reality, just one they didn't live in. Which surely meant it was...real. It was in the name. It couldn’t be though. Yet...she liked it. That life, it wasn’t as exciting as this one. There were no monsters or distant planets, and definitely a lot less running. But it was just as thrilling. The sight of the Doctor... _ John _ ...in that suit, looking so much like when they’d been onboard the Orient Express, battling a mummy and their own emotions towards one another...no adventure in the universe could replicate the feeling she’d had when he’d been at her door. They’d kissed! Oh, this was bad. Very bad. It was becoming too much for her and Clara found herself growing faint again, taking a stumbling step backwards, reaching out for the chair.

“Doctor,” she mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. 

He looked up startled, his eyebrows knitted together when he saw what she was doing. He forgot what he was doing with the console, immediately sprinting up the steps to place his arms under hers, supporting his companion before she fell over. The Doctor guided Clara back to her chair (yes, he had just admitted that it was, indeed, her chair but now was not the time to be worrying about that) and sat her down. Her eyes were closed and, against his better judgement, his hand drifted to a strand of hair that had fallen over her face. He pushed it back tenderly, tucking it behind her ear. That was something he’d never done before. It was a good job that she wasn’t fully herself at the moment, otherwise she would have likely slapped him for invading her personal space. She didn't want him doing that but he hadn’t been able to help himself. This wretched new reality was affecting even his brain, which was really troubling him.

“Oh, Clara, my Clara...what are you doing out of your chair?” the Doctor asked softly. “I put you there for a reason. You’re still feeling the effects of what you’ve been through. What we’re both still going through.”

Clara stirred gently. “Did you...just say that you put me here?” Even without a lot of energy, she still managed to smirk at the implications. So that was how she had got there. Interesting.  _ Very _ interesting.

“Well…” he said awkwardly, scratching his head, trying to think of any other excuse than the one he had. “I woke up before you and I found you on the floor. I wasn’t going to leave you there. You didn't look at all comfortable. And, don’t worry, you really weren’t that heavy.”

“Were you expecting me to be?” she wondered with a low growl.

The Doctor knew that there was a correct answer to this question so he paused for a moment to make sure he got it right. “...no?”

“Good answer.” She opened her eyes, using up a lot of her strength. Clara was startled by how close he was but didn't show it. Those images returned again, when that face had been  _ even  _ closer than this. She swore that she could still feel the ghost of the kiss on her lips, a strange tingling sensation. Move her head up and a bit forward and she’d get to feel it again. Obviously, the other Clara was a lot braver than her as she averted her gaze, avoiding any unnecessary awkwardness. He was probably just as embarrassed, feeling sorry for her, pitying her. It was almost too much to handle. “That was very sweet of you. Thank you.”

His smile was brief but sincere. “I won’t make a habit of it, don’t you fear.”

She could have rolled her eyes if it hadn’t been too much effort. Things were back to normal, it seemed. “So...are we back in our universe? Have you managed to break the connection or something.”

The Doctor busied himself with picking up some of the books but she could still see the frown on his face, the slight pout of his lips. “No,” he admitted. “This is just like last time. We’re back in our reality but we’re also still firmly in the grasp of his game. I was trying to see if there was a way of getting out of it before you woke up, but I can’t seem to find anything wrong with the console. Which is what is greatly worrying me.”

“But why bring us back? Wouldn’t it be easier to keep us trapped in that world if that’s where he wants us to stay?”

“Did the Dream Lord ever say that that’s what he wanted? Is his endgame truly locking us up in that reality?” 

“Why are you asking me?” Clara asked, sitting up slightly as she began to recover more. “How would I know?”

“It was worth a try. Because I’m just as clueless as you on this. We still don’t know his intentions. Passing us back and forth between worlds...maybe it’s designed to make us see how different they are. But why? What does he want us to see? What do we need to realise?”

Clara felt that it was obvious judging from what had happened in the other world. But she was still nervous about bringing it up with this version of him. He wasn’t that...knowledgeable about emotions at times. “Well...he said something about temptation. He wants us to give into what we really desire. A perfect world where we can do what we want. It doesn’t sound that bad when you think about it like that.”

The Doctor gave her an angry look. “Clara, you can’t allow yourself to think like that, not for one moment. He needs us to  _ want _ to live in that world, for what reason, I don’t know. You have to resist it. That world isn’t real but, the more you wish it was, the stronger its pull becomes. Do you understand?”

“But what if I do like that reality? Doctor...we...well, you know...you were there. Did you despise it that much that you’re so actively against it.” She looked at him in a wounded fashion, her eyes big and on the brink of tears.

He was by her side again. “Clara...that world is built by our subconscious thoughts. Both of ours. Nothing happens that we both don’t want to happen. So I’m just as much at fault for what we did.”

“Are you trying to say...that you…” She couldn’t believe it. Was he going to admit it after all this time. If John Smith had kissed her, that meant the Doctor wanted to do the same. Surely.

His grip on the arm of the chair slackened and he stumbled to his knees. Clara looked at him in alarm, grabbing hold of his arm. His expression was strained as he fought against the unseen force. She could tell  _ he _ was standing behind her before he even spoke. She continued to focus on the Doctor though, not wanting to lose him. Why wasn’t she falling asleep too? She didn't want to be alone with him. 

“I hate to intrude a tender moment,” the Dream Lord said, sounding like he wanted to do exactly that. “But I felt that we were making progress and I didn't want him to mess it up. So it’s time for the great Time Lord to take a nap. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your precious Clara company whilst you slumber.”

Clara was afraid now as the Doctor landed fully on the floor. He looked up at her one last time. “Don’t be scared. You have to stay strong for me. I’ll be back soon.” And then his eyes closed and he was lost to the world, leaving Clara with the smirking man behind her.

**********

The Doctor was quickly growing to hate waking up on the floor, even if it had become a common occurrence throughout her many lives. With a wince that came from the dull aching pain in her back, she forced herself to sit up, assessing the situation whilst she attempted to sort out the mess her hair was in. She contemplated going back to the good old days of her ninth incarnation - there had never been an issue with hair back then. The Tardis was still in flight, or more accurately floating in space where she had parked it in escape, which could only be seen as a good sign. The gentle hum of the console was a comforting sound, the never ending theme to her life. But there was an element of pain though, as if the old ship could tell something was wrong and was saddened by the fact she couldn’t do anything to help. Knowing the Tardis and her sentient tendencies, that probably wasn’t far from the truth. Even the lights had changed during their collective slumber, the console room now bathed in an ocean blue compared to the usual bright yellow. It matched the Doctor’s feelings quite aptly. They had always been in sync, two parts of one whole creation.

There was a soft murmur from one corner of the room which the Time Lord picked up on. Immediately worrying about who it was and whether anything was wrong, she stood up, almost losing balance several times (yet she didn't fall down, which she saw as a massive victory, especially since this regeneration had come with a more...clumsy behaviour pattern). Yaz was propped up against one of the pillars, her body illuminated against the cold hue of her surroundings. She was moving slightly, shifting as she began to wake up. The Doctor crouched down in front of her, there to catch her if she stumbled. Memories (were they memories or the fragments of dreams?) resurfaced of a time when they’d been just as close, in a doctor’s office, on a sofa watching a film. Her fist clenched as she fought off those temptations; she knew that the more she thought about it, the more she would accept it as a proper reality. Those emotions she’d felt, getting closer to the woman in front of her, they weren’t  _ real _ , they couldn’t be real. There had been times in the past when she had allowed herself to get close to people but the way her life was, it never ended well. She was always the one left with the heartbreak, alone and tired with it all. The Doctor wasn’t sure she could survive going through that yet again.  _ One more lifetime won’t hurt anyone. Apart from me _ . How true that had been.

Yaz’s eyes slowly opened, brown pools reflected in the mesmerising green whirlpools of the Doctor’s eyes. Her breath hitched when she saw how close they were, instantly thinking of looking down at her in a similar position, when they’d wrapped up in a blanket, no care in the world. Being back in the Tardis meant that they were back to normal, where words went unspoken and their lives were constantly full of danger. Wasn’t  _ that _ life better in comparison? They were more willing to talk, their worries were just about work and everyday life. Sure, there were no wonders, no distant planets or dazzling stars. But Yaz had experienced a different kind of wonder when they’d spent that evening together, a wonder she had never lived through before, a wonder that was just as magical. 

With so many thoughts waging a war in her head, Yaz was forced to tear her gaze away from the Doctor but she soon wished she hadn’t. She spotted the unmistakable forms of Ryan and Graham, still and unmoving on the floor. She let out a gasp, shifting up further against the pillar, terrified and frightened. The Doctor, so normally inept at following human emotions, picked up on the source of her worries straight away. She quickly moved to their bodies, scanning them briefly with the sonic screwdriver and letting out a sigh of relief when the readings came back. Then she was in front of Yaz again, whose eyes were still wide and frantic. She firmly took a hold of her companion’s arms without thinking, a rare showing of physical touch that took Yaz by surprise. She was stronger than she seemed, Yaz unable to move, although she didn't know for certain whether that was down to the strong grip of the piercing gaze she was being subjected to.

“Listen to me, Yaz,” the Doctor said, softly but resolutely. 

Yaz tried to turn her head away to look at the bodies again but the Doctor placed a hand on her cheek, guiding her attention back. Again, it was a show of force that was unusual for the blonde-haired woman from Yaz’s experience. Had something changed during their visit to the other world? She certainly hoped  _ something _ had, although those types of thoughts probably had something to do with the way the Doctor was taking charge.  _ Yasmin Khan, you cannot think like that! Why not? _ And she found that her brain couldn’t form a coherent argument.

“Focus on me,” the Doctor continued. “I know this is...scary and confusing but you need to trust me. They’re okay. They’re still breathing.”

“What’s wrong with them then?” Yaz shakily asked.

“They’re still sleeping. Still in that  _ reality _ , I presume. It’s the same thing that happens to us when we’re forced to sleep. I know that’s not really reassuring but it’s the most comforting thing I could think of.”

“But why are they still sleeping if we’re awake. I thought the...effects happened to all of us. Has something gone wrong?” She couldn’t bear the thought of losing either of them. Ryan had grown to be an excellent friend, the one in the group who she could have a laugh with, the one who made it seem that her life wasn’t as absurd as it actually was. And Graham...they had grown closer recently, both confiding in one another with their worries and their concerns when things got troubling. They had both become vitally important to her in ways she had never expected. In the other reality, they would never get hurt like this so why were they fighting to save this one?

“Nothing has gone wrong as far as I can tell. I think it’s just...the Dream Lord has a control over us right now, which means that he can dictate when we wake up and  _ who _ wakes up at what time. So the better and more crucial question is not why they’re asleep...but why we’re  _ awake. _ ”

“An excellent observation as always, Doctor!” that smug voice rang out once again. The Dream Lord had somehow appeared in a flash, standing and leaning by the console. “Although I should expect nothing less from someone with such a magnificent mind.”

The Doctor stood up, a deep scowl on her face as she stared at their enemy. “I normally like compliments but only when they come from someone I respect.” She noticed Yaz standing up as well behind her, who didn't want the man to think she was weak in any way.

He placed a hand on his chest, a mocking smile on his face. “Words hurt, Doctor. Didn't they teach you that at the Academy?”

“Among other things. Like fighting against mental projections, such as the one you’re putting us through. Your tricks will never work on me so you may as well give up now. Before you make me properly angry. A gentle warning I’ll give you is that I’m getting dangerously close to that point.”

The Dream Lord chuckled, unphased by her threats. “Again, your words are laced with a menacing bite but your actions tell another, more exciting story. My tricks will never work on you? Firstly, they’re not tricks. Everything you see is by your own subconscious design. Secondly...the way you were giving into temptation so easily before you woke up...are you so sure that it’s not working?”

Much to his delight, the Doctor couldn’t find a suitable response. Instead, she glanced at Yaz with an uncertain look, again trying to fight her internal wants and desires. This was just the Dream Lord messing with them, she told herself. Even she couldn’t believe it though.

“Hold on...you can see what happens in that world too?” Yaz wondered sceptically. “I don’t see you falling asleep.”

“Because I’m in charge! I’m powerful! Don’t you remember meeting me, Yasmin?” He put on a different accent, a cockney caricature. “ _ I was torn between a classic tomato or minestrone, which would be pushing the boat out quite a bit” _ He smiled as realisation dawned on her face. “Poor old, little Toby, losing his wallet. You found it so easy to confide in him and listen to his advice.”

“You told me what to do! You told me to go spend time with her!” She avoided looking at the Doctor now, not seeing the hurt expression, realising that Yaz hadn’t wanted to be with her after all.

“I did nothing of the sort!” he responded in kind. “I merely suggested what you could do. It was you who decided to go on the date with her, if that’s what you humans call it. Because you wanted to. My reality gives you the opportunity to make those decisions that you’ve always wanted to make. It’s a kindness really. Why do you think I’ve brought you back? I’m forcing you to confront those emotions head on, to see that temptation is not as terrible a prospect as you’ve been made to think.”

The Doctor blocked Yaz’s view of the Dream Lord quickly. “You need to stop listening to him, Yaz. He’s trying to get inside your head and, if you allow him, it’s going to be very difficult for me to get him out of there.”

He appeared in another flash, standing by Yaz’s side. It was like having the angel and the devil on either shoulder but which one was which? “I’m already inside your head,” he sang with glee. “Why resist it when it  _ feels _ so good. Tell me, how long have you felt  _ that _ way towards her? Was it love at first sight or did it grow as you saw how wonderful a person she is? Yes, I know how you feel. You can’t hide anything from me now.”

“Yaz,” the Doctor butted in again. “Whatever you feel, that world is not the answer. It can never be the answer, no matter how much we may want it.”

“We?” Yaz asked quietly and the Doctor knew that she’d made a mistake. She could see it in the young woman’s eyes, that sense of infernal hope that would doom them all. “Doctor, why can’t we live like that? Maybe it’s the one thing I need in life and if this reality can give it...why should I turn it down?”

“Exactly, Yaz. Exactly,” the Dream Lord agreed, encouraging her line of thought as he nodded his head. “There’s no need to be scared anymore. All you have to do is fall asleep once again and you’ll be back, where everything has the potential to be  _ perfect _ .” 

And, for Yaz, that temptation was too big to resist as her eyes began to close, the Doctor’s shouts and pleas growing distant and muffled.

**********

Clara lifted his head slightly, reassured by the sound of his breathing. Yet tears still stained her cheeks as she looked down at the Doctor, not used to being without him like this. They always fought together, side by side.  _ Just the Doctor and Clara Oswald...in the Tardis! _ That’s what he’d said at the end of another of their notoriously dangerous adventures. She didn't want to lose that, not now. He was the central part of her life. She was...dependent on him, which was a terrifying thought. But one that she had known was true for quite some time. She just hadn’t been brave enough to say it to him. There would come an opportunity one day where Clara would get to prove to her Time Lord that she could be brave when she had to be. Was now that opportunity? He looked strangely peaceful as she placed a cushion from the chair under his head. The Doctor had looked after her when she’d been asleep so now it was her turn. Slowly, almost nervously, she leant forward and shakily placed a soft kiss on his forehead, lingering for a second longer than was necessary.

“He will be fine, you know.”

Clara stiffened in anger as she remembered that the Dream Lord was still with her. Composing herself, she stood up, turning around to look at him. He still had that unsettling smile on his lips, the one that said he was in control and there was nothing she could do about it. He was on the balcony with her now, blocking her path to the steps that led to the console. Keeping a cool that was at odds with her inner feelings, Clara said nothing, continuing to glare in his direction. He seemed nonplussed about her demeanour judging from the lack of change in his expression.

“He told you himself,” the Dream Lord continued, his voice a purr. “He’s just asleep. Think of it as if he’s dreaming. Although I must remind you that it is not a dream. But I get the sense that you’re happy about that.”

Still she said nothing, her arms folded across her chest. She was battling against every instinct she had to stay there and do nothing. Remaining calm, just like the Doctor would do if he were in her position. Clara tried to focus on her breathing instead of the words he said, hoping the air rushing into her lungs would drown him out. She was also ensuring that she was in between him and the Doctor, protecting the man she loved. There was no point denying it now, especially when it was just her and the Dream Lord, a man who had obviously seen how she felt. He would try to use it as her weakness; Clara saw it as the root cause of her strength.

The Dream Lord tapped a hand against the railing impatiently, visibly annoyed at the lack of progress he was making. “Why is there so much anger bubbling away in your gaze? They’re ablaze like the wildest of fires. If I look too long, I might risk getting burnt.”

“If I’m lucky,” she responded icily. She didn't care about how happy he seemed that she’d finally said something. “But I don’t think anyone is looking kindly upon me today.”

“Oh, Clara. What would the Doctor think if he heard you speaking like that? So much rage and fury. Would he feel saddened or guilty? Since he’s evidently the one who transformed you into what you are now. Or maybe he would be angry himself, telling you that it’s not your place to take on those emotions in his absence.” The Dream Lord shrugged lazily, taking a step nearer. “But who am I to put forward such questions? I’m only pondering.”

Clara gritted her teeth, fully aware that he was slowly getting closer to her. She knew that it made no difference, having seen his ability to appear wherever he wanted in a blink of an eye. “I’d say it’s a good job he’s asleep then, so he doesn’t have to see me like this.”

“Touche. I hadn’t thought of that angle. My, you really do talk like the Doctor. Have you modelled yourself on him after all this time?”

“There are worse people to aspire to be like. He’s the best person I know.”

“He wouldn’t agree though, would he?” the man shot back with a raised eyebrow.

“He doesn’t have to. I believe in him and that’s all that matters. I’ve seen him at his worst point and he still prevailed. That says a lot about the man he is.” She glanced back at his prone body, smiling softly and sadly at the sight. “He  _ is _ a good man.”

“If I was a betting man, which I sometimes am...I’d say that’s a long winded way of professing your love for him.”

Clara was on the defensive straight away, her smile disappearing to be replaced by a glare once again. “Whatever I feel or whatever my emotions are...they are of no concern to you.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “They are all I care about. Come on, let’s just talk between friends. It’s just me and you, alone. No interruptions, no excuses. You could shout to the entire world that you love the impossible madman in the impossible blue box.”

“Answer me this...why are you so interested in this?” she said instead, avoiding his suggestions. She couldn’t allow herself to be sucked into the games he wanted to play. 

“Would you believe me if I said I’m just a hopeless romantic?” He didn't need to wait for a response, knowing what the answer would be. “Believe it or not, the universe may one day depend on that love you claim exists. The existence of  _ everything _ hinges on the two of you. That’s what a prophecy says anyway but you don’t need to trouble your little mind about that. Really, I don’t buy into it but this was a great way of seeing if it has the potential to be true.”

“So why did you target the other Tardis? There’s another Doctor in that reality too, isn’t there?”

The Dream drew in a short breath as he winced painfully. “I didn't want to tell you this.” He waited for her to say something but she instead decided to keep her thoughts to herself. “There is no  _ other _ Doctor. It’s the same one, from a different part of his timestream.  _ After _ he’s moved on from you.” He smiled at the fact Clara couldn’t quite hide the look of hurt on her face. “Oh yes, he finds someone else after you’re gone. For what reason, I don’t know. Maybe he just grows tired of you at some point. I can see where he’s coming from. This conversation has been dreadfully tedious and droll.”

“You’re lying,” Clara bit out, the first sign that she was losing some of her composure. She always knew that the Doctor would live beyond her and that meant he’d end up finding someone new. But the reminder was too painful to bear.”

“I wish I was.” He was actually sounding sincere and Clara couldn’t tell if that was down to him being truthful or being a good actor. “But just think...I’ve presented you with an opportunity here. That world I’ve allowed you to live in...the Doctor would never move on from you. You’d grow old together, live your lives as one. You’d get to show that love you feel without any of the fear that he’d someday throw it away. You just have to make that choice. Leave this realm of uncertainty and pain...and thrive in one full of promise and love.”

Clara walked towards him shakily. She stared at the Dream Lord, trying to decipher his intentions from his face. He was starting to believe that she was going to agree with him until she gripped his arms tightly. A cold smirk descended on her face. “The Doctor would never just throw it away. He may travel with other people but he never forgets. Perhaps you don’t know him as well as you claim.” And, with that, she shoved with all of her strength and pushed him down the steps. In an instant, he vanished from view, as she had expected, appearing towards the Tardis doors. It gave her enough time to run down to the console, keeping it behind her as he approached angrily.

“That was a foolish move, Clara. But I understand why you did it. The Doctor has filled your head with the preconception that you always have to be the hero. But you don’t! You can be selfish once in a while. Do you believe the Doctor has never been selfish? How many times do you think he has put his self interests first? I’d wager it numbers quite a few times.” 

“You’re right about one thing. I can be quite foolish. You know what else would be foolish? The Doctor has taught me a lot about the Tardis and what most of the controls do. He thinks I don’t really take it in but, believe me, I have. So I know exactly the sequence of buttons I have to press to make this ship self-destruct. Boom! That’d ruin your little game, wouldn’t it? And your powers would be drained, I’d presume. You said you needed the Tardises. That was  _ foolish _ of you to admit that. It’d be a price worth paying and it’s a choice I know the Doctor would make. We die but so do you.”

“But I know you won’t do that. You don’t have the strength to do it.” The Dream Lord did sound scared though, despite his protestations. “And it’s the coward’s way out. You can’t face your emotions so you decide to destroy everything.”

Clara turned around and started to pull down switches and mess with buttons confidently. “Are you willing to put your life on the line, Dream Lord. Now that’s the question.” She didn't hear a response and she turned her head, only to find that he wasn’t there. Distracted, she couldn’t react quickly enough as he appeared again by her side, holding her arms with a surprising degree of strength. Clara tried to fight against him but it was of no use.

“I think...it’s time you went back to sleep,” he said through the effort. Clara could already feel herself losing her grip on reality, her arms and legs growing tired and weak. She tried to call out but nothing came. “Let’s hope you’re more agreeable when you return.”


	11. Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz wakes up to see that her 'date' with Jo is far from being over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure a lot of you will love this chapter

She was in a bed, she was fairly certain of that. What was strange was that this bed was a lot comfier than the one she owned. It was like sleeping on a cloud or cotton candy (she’d naturally never slept on either but imagined they’d be just as soft) and she was perfectly willing to lie there forever. The thing was that Yaz couldn’t remember going to sleep on an expensive bed, judging from the cotton sheets and plump pillows. Ever so slowly, she allowed her eyes to open, realising she was in a bedroom (of course she was - she was in a bad after all) that was predominantly a light gold in colour with accents of grey dotted around. An old clock on the wall told her that it had just gone past eleven, which made her sit up in alarm. She couldn’t remember the last time she had ever woken up so late and she was worried that she was going to be in immense trouble when she got to work. Delgado would have a field day, no doubt. He’d probably yell at her about the fundamental principles of punctuality and organisation in front of the entire department, putting her to shame as an example for others who dared contemplate not turning up on time. They would forever use her name in whispered conversations, the woman who had faced the wrath of the Master (that was a nickname some people liked to use when he wasn’t in earshot as they joked that he worked them like slaves).

The blaring noise in her head that was similar to a screeching alarm or the final blast of a ship’s horn as it sunk began to ease when she realised that there was no work today. Yaz felt like a complete idiot for her over reaction but was immensely grateful for the fact that it was a Sunday. It still didn't explain why she was in someone else’s bed until the events of the previous night came back to her in small pieces at a time. The fact that she was still in her normal clothes instead of pyjamas was a rather big clue. She had been incredibly nervous, Yaz could remember that. But then she had seen Jo’s beaming face and all of her agitations had slipped away as she’d smiled back in earnest. They’d spent a wonderful evening together doing absolutely nothing, which had taken the pressure off really. If they’d gone out for a meal or a drink, Yaz knew she would have tried too hard or would have wanted to be the perfect date to reduce the chances of embarrassing this upstanding citizen in public. As she thought back to the evening before, she realised something funny. She’d just referred to it as a date, which neither of them had said it was. It brought back the intense feelings she’d had, stronger than she’d even thought possible. Something had awoken in her as they’d laid down together, watching a film in a comfortable silence. Yaz had wanted more moments like that and Jo had practically said the same thing (which didn't make any sense to Yaz, who couldn’t understand why someone like that would be interested in her). However, the doubts were still there. Again she had to remind herself that Jo hadn’t specifically said that she wanted to do it again in the romantic sense. She didn't even know if Jo  _ liked _ women. The doctor may just have been very comfortable and affectionate to people because she was like that. Some people were. There was no point in getting her hopes up, even after the night had gone so well. The question still remained - why hadn’t she gone home, instead of sleeping over?

Yaz was hopeful of getting answers when the door to the bedroom opened slowly with a slight creak. Jo peeked her head through the gap she’d made, not wanting to let too much light get in in case Yaz had still been asleep. When she saw that that wasn’t the case, she smiled brightly and wandered in, carrying a wooden tray. Confused, Yaz sat up and turned on the lamp by her side, capturing Jo’s face in the soft light and making her, in Yaz’s mind, completely and utterly stunning. She placed the tray on Yaz’s lap and took up a spot on the edge of the bed, her leg resting right next to Yaz’s. There was a pot of tea set by one empty mug and another that was already full, a small canteen of milk, and a stack of toast with an assortment of butter and jams.

Yaz stared at in wonder. “Wow,” she muttered breathlessly. No one had ever made her breakfast in bed before, unless you counted the few times her parents had done when she’d been sick and taken a day off from school.

“Morning,” Jo chimed before she looked down at what she’d made. “I can get you something else if you want. I know it’s not anything fancy. I could get you some cereal. Truth is, I don’t normally have time in a morning to have breakfast because I’m usually rushing to get to the hospital as soon as I can. Which means I’m severely lacking in options for you.” She looked almost nervous or apologetic, as if she’d failed in some way or another.

Yaz quickly put a hand on her arm, which had the desired effect of making her stop talking. “Are you actually an angel?”

“What do you mean?” Jo asked with her brow furrowed.

“Nobody can be this perfect. Making me breakfast in bed, worrying that it’s not enough. It’s such a nice gesture. There’s really no need to fret.” Yaz gave her a warm look and they both stared at one another for a second, neither one knowing what to say or wanting to ruin the moment. 

“Well,” Jo mumbled, clearing her throat as she tore her gaze away. “I just thought it was what people do when people stay the night. I’ve never been in this position before.”

“You’ve never had someone sleep over?” She seemed so nice that Yaz just assumed that she must have attracted every person she ever came across.

“...no? I’ve never found anyone to do it with. You presented me with the opportunity.” She paused to smile again at the other woman. “Have you had to do this before?”

“Never,” Yaz admitted, chuckling lightly. “Well then, here’s to trying...new things.” She raised her mug despite it being empty.

“I can definitely get onboard with that.” Jo laughed as she clinked her mug with Yaz’s, who was still a bit confused as to what had happened last night. They had been growing more content with one another’s company and then she was...asleep. There was no memory of going to bed. It was strange and rather concerning. Was it just another consequence of when she’d banged her head a few days ago? Was she going insane?

“Did you...take me to bed last night?” she wondered, her cheeks feeling awfully warm as she realised how that sounded. She was comforted by the fact that Jo had as equally as bright a blush colouring her face.

“By the time we’d finished the second film, it was really late and you looked shattered. I didn't really want you getting a taxi in the state you were in. You hear horror stories along those lines and I didn't want to...risk you getting into any bother.” What she didn't mention was how she hadn’t wanted Yaz to leave after she’d had so much fun. But that would sound incredibly weird so she kept it to herself.

“There you go again, being far too sweet,” Yaz complimented, growing increasingly aware of how close they were. Everything Jo was saying, Yaz was twisting it so that it sounded as if she were  _ interested _ in the way she hoped. There was something in her head, a voice encouraging her to take that massive step, forget the consequences. 

“And, don’t worry, I was the perfect gentle...woman? Is that a phrase? Once you were in bed, I left you to it. I didn't want to...encroach on your personal space anymore than I had.”

“That’s a shame,” Yaz found herself saying, with no idea where that level of confidence had come from. Something was fuelling her, shouting at her to not miss the opportunity she’d been given. Unseen beneath the sheets, she clenched her fists in resolve, vowing to not let that happen. “Why don’t we have a lazy start to the day? That’s what Sundays are for anyway. You could...get into bed with me if you want. We can just chat and while away the hours.”

Jo appeared nervous again, slightly surprised by Yaz’s forwardness. She mentally reprimanded herself, knowing that there was no chance she meant it like  _ that. _ “Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” The unusual confidence coursing through her was the only thing keeping her going along this line. “It’s just like lying on the sofa like we did last night,” she reasoned, thinking it was a smart way of convincing the other woman. “And I have nowhere to be so I’m in no rush. Unless...you want me to go?”

“No!” Jo blurted, suddenly alarmed and saddened by the prospect of Yaz leaving. “No. I’d love you to stay as long as possible.” She slowly got up and cautiously walked to the opposite side of the bed. Yaz watched her carefully as she got into bed, tucking herself up in the duvet. They were both surprised by the heat coming off each other as their legs brushed together. 

Fuelled by the success of her proposition, Yaz found herself snuggling closer to Jo, the tray moved aside and long forgotten. “Can I ask you a question?”

Jo was practically breathless as she stared at Yax, who was inches away. Agonisingly close. “Of course you can.”

“You said that you’ve never had anyone over before. Does that include...romantic entanglements?”

“It does.” 

“Why?”

“No one has been good enough. I’m not interested in those one night stands you always hear about. I’ve always wanted to form a connection with the other person. I know it sounds stupid and overly romanticised but…”

“No, it doesn’t,” Yaz interrupted with a smile. “It makes perfect sense. Everyone aspires to have that.” She bit her lip in thought and worry. “If you don’t mind me asking...have you ever thought you’ve been close to that?”

“I’ve certainly been attracted to people but that’s as far as it goes. I’m just looking for anyone who is interesting and wants to have a meaningful life.”

“Anyone? So...man or woman?” Yaz winced. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s a personal…”

Jo crashed her lips to Yaz’s in an act of brazen courage that she’d never felt before and it effectively shut the younger woman up. When they parted, both breathing heavily with shy smiles on their faces, Jo stared directly at Yaz. “ _ Anyone. _ ” And that’s when they kissed again.

**********

It was that time of day again, coming like it always did. Just like clockwork, that’s how they liked it. Four-thirty in the afternoon, just as the sky was growing to be a mixture of deep purples and reds, they closed the cafe for the day, saying goodbye to their regulars. It was comforting to have that element of routine in their lives and the strict time they put on closing made it easier to keep their home lives separate from the ones they had at work. If it could be called work - in truth, the day went so quickly with so much enjoyment imbued in it that it was as far as possible from being a chore. And it wasn’t as if they  _ had _ to do this. The jobs they’d had before, one a bus driver, the other a nurse, didn't leave them with the largest of pensions but there was still plenty there to survive and enjoy their golden years. No, the cafe was something they’d decided to do together, wanting to branch out into a different side of society. When the idea had initially come up, Grace had said it would keep them from sliding into a meaningless existence that sometimes came with retirement. Although that portrayed it in a more cynical light than he had thought, Graham had understood what she meant. It hadn’t taken a lot of convincing to put him on her side - he was usually willing to follow whatever she said and do whatever she commanded. He saw it as his duty as a good and obedient husband. 

Life before the cafe was a blur when he thought about it, which he’d always thought was strange but he’d never given it too much attention. Graham always got conveniently distracted when his mind turned to that peculiarity; sometimes it would be something of interest on the tv, other times it would be something funny happening on the street (Grace hadn’t been too happy with him chuckling at the young skateboarder that had fallen over after trying to do what would have been a particularly impressive trick). One time, when he had started to really ponder why he struggled to remember the earlier parts of his life, he’d accidentally set a tea towel on fire whilst cooking, quickly making him focus on the more immediate threat. As he did with most things nowadays, he put his slight memory loss down to old age. If his knees were testament to anything, it was that the progression of life did have some pitfalls.

He did remember the time when they’d first opened the cafe, practically like it was yesterday. It had been a Tuesday, which was already a strange time to open a business for the first time. The weather had been as good as one could expect in Britain - grey clouds in the sky but no rain, the typical English summer. The two of them had been understandably nervous and had watched every passerby that walked past the shopfront with a mixture of agitation and hope. Most of them, as they’d anticipated, didn't give the cafe a second look. London was full of similar establishments so they were never of the thought that hordes of people would come clamouring to experience what they were selling. Lunch had rolled by with no one coming in and they’d started to doubt whether this had been the right choice. Buying property in the capital was undoubtedly a very expensive endeavour and the couple feared that they’d just washed a significant portion of their life savings down the drain.

Graham would always smile when he thought about what happened next. Their very first customer had stumbled in, saying he lived nearby and was curious about a local place opening up. Grace had instantly put on the charm, guiding him to a table as she listed the specials on offer. Graham even remembered his order - a cup of black coffee with one sugar and a ham and cheese melt with ready salted Walkers crisps. He’d practically ran to the kitchen to make the sandwich, trying to make it his best one ever. And it must have been as, after that first day, more people came every lunch rush, spreading the word about this small little cafe in the middle of London that had exceptional sarnies until they had a steady group of fans. The only thing he was saddened by was that they’d never got the name of that first customer, their guardian angel.

Graham was thinking about this as he stood by the door, an arm on Brian’s shoulder as he saw him out. He was their most diligent regular customer and had just popped by on the way home for a hot tea. It had been fairly quiet when he’d come in, allowing Graham and Grace to have a conversation with him like they normally did. He’d been volunteering at the local library that was on the campus of the university and had told them about a helpful student who’d placed some rather heavy books on a top shelf for him. He’d said it made a change from the usual hooligans who folded the corners of pages over, the sort of people who would no doubt end up in prison one day for more extreme acts of vandalism. The two men winced at the cold as they abandoned the warmth of the cafe, Brian rubbing his arms to get some feeling into them.

“Any plans for tonight, Brian?” Graham wondered. He knew that the other man could get lonely sometimes, being on his own. 

Brian smiled sadly. “Oh, you know me. Same old, same old. I’ve got a lasagna in the freezer that’s been shouting my name for about a week so I’ll sit down with that and crack on with a few boxsets on the tv. Rory made sure to set me up with Sky and Netflix before he left so I’m all sorted.”

“Have you heard anything from him recently?”

“It’s been difficult with the time difference but we try and Facetime each other every few days. Modern technology is great, isn’t it? Back in my day, if I’d emigrated to New York, my family wouldn’t have heard from me for weeks. Amy’s just signed up with a publisher so that’s some great news.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” Graham said with a smile. “Well, if you need some company, you know that we’re always by the phone.”

Brian waved his hand. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. You know that Grace won’t take no for an answer so, if you need anything, don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll try,” Brian replied and, with a farewell wave, he was gone, heading home before the rain turned up. 

Graham closed the door, the soft jingle of the bell ringing out as he did so. His wife emerged from the kitchen, a tea towel draped over her arm. “Was Brian being reluctant to say he’s lonely again?” she wondered, already knowing the answer.

“It’s not something you really want to admit, is it? But I made sure he knew he’s welcome at ours any time.”

Grace stepped up to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Good. You know I worry about him. He needs someone to spend time with properly, not just turning up here everyday. He needs a woman in his life.”

“That’s your answer to everything,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“It seemed to cheer you up when you found me,” Grace shot back with a dangerous tone that he knew all too well. “Or have you got something to tell me?”

He shook his head as he walked over to the counter, taking the tea towel from her arm and storing it away. “There’s no chance of me letting go of you. You’re stuck with me, love.” With a mischievous smirk, he turned the radio on, a soft tune coming out.  _ Ah, Sinatra. The king of the crooners.  _ His favourite. He waltzed over to Grace, who was giving him a curious look. 

“What are you up to, mister?”

He grabbed hold of her arms and they started slowly swaying together, both smiling warmly. “Am I not allowed to dance with my beautiful wife?” He spun her with a flick of his wrist, taking her by surprise. 

She lightly tapped him on the chest, enjoying this moment. He could really be a romantic when he wanted to be. “Oh, you’re such a flatterer. Why you weren’t snatched up before I met you is the biggest mystery I’ve ever known.”

“Well, ain’t you lucky?” Graham asked with a cheeky grin as they turned to the song, bodies pressed close together. In his head, though, it was him who was wondering about what he had done to deserve being so lucky. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

“People walking past will wonder what we’re doing. They’ll think we’re absolute nutters,” she pointed out, although there was no sign of her wanting to stop dancing. If Ryan had seen them doing this, she had no doubt in her mind that he would have said something sarcastic or acted like he was embarrassed. She was looking forward to when she could turn the tables on him, when he found himself a partner who he loved just as much as she adored the man who was holding her in his arms.

“Let them wonder, let them guess. I couldn’t care one bit what those strangers think. You know why?” He’d timed it perfectly with the song, beginning to sing along to the smooth voice of ‘Old Blue Eyes’. Grace was certain that, to her, the Essex-born man was far superior but she also knew that he’d never hear such blasphemy. “You make me feel so young. You make me feel there are songs to be sung, bells to be rung. And a wonderful spring to be sprung. And even when I’m old and grey, I’m gonna feel the way I do, today. ‘Cause you make me feel so young.”

It was a lot later than half-four by the time they locked up, choosing to spend a while dancing and singing together, cherishing the opportunity to be together like this, care free and oblivious to everyone else in the world. Both were thinking the same thing - who could they thank for making this happen in their lives?

**********

Another lecture down as he began to pack away his things back into his briefcase, the sound of shuffling feet ringing out across the auditorium. John had enjoyed it as always, shaping the minds of young people, or at least trying to. They’d been focusing on various different conflicts throughout history, which was always a rather gruesome topic to cover, although most people seemed to find it interesting. It said a lot about the human psyche that people could both detest conflicts and the pain and misery they brought about...but couldn’t help but be fascinated by it. He had done his best to not glorify any of the wars, not focusing on the battles themselves or the tactics they used, but instead choosing to highlight the causes, be they social, political or economic. He may have got slightly heated at times but that was what he was renowned for and why so many students enrolled in his courses. John had finished the lecture by putting forward a fundamental question to his class, asking them whether they thought conflict was always inevitable when humans were involved. Maybe that would keep a few of them up at night, pondering the state of the world. Those that did would make the best historians; much of his youth had been spent tackling the biggest social issues he heard about, protesting, marching, lots of shouting. Quite a bit of running too but he loved the running.

There was a nervous cough behind and he instantly spun around, looking at an old man who he had spotted in the front row of his lecture hall. It had been strange to see a more...experienced student but not unusual so John had quickly moved past it. In fact, he admired this person for turning up when they didn't have to (a lot of students didn't and they had the rest of their lives ahead of them, all focused on them actually passing university). He sent a smile at the other man, stopping his tidying up. John had considered going to see Clara straight after the lecture, despite fearing that that would look a bit too needy or stalkerish. They’d only spent a short amount of time together since their date (and their kiss, as if he could forget that life-affirming moment) and he was acutely aware of how desperately he wanted to see her again, like he was going through some sort of withdrawal symptoms (he had experienced enough drugs in the wild years to know exactly what that felt like). That could wait though - he couldn’t exactly allow his emotions stop him from doing his job to the best of his abilities. John had no doubt that Michelle would somehow find out and use it against him. And John, himself, didn't want to let his standards slip. It was a matter of principle more than anything else.

As he looked more closely at the new student, his head started to bang incessantly. There was something familiar about him, like he should have recognised him. For a second, John closed his eyes and tried to fight against the pounding throb in his skull, wondering what had brought on such a reaction. It began to decrease in intensity and he put it down to simply being tired having been speaking for such a long time.

“Can I help you?” he asked, leaning against his desk, attempting to put the strange concerns to the back of his head. Students very rarely came up to him unless they absolutely had to so he was intrigued that a new one had been so brave.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Wilf,” the older man introduced himself, holding out his hand which John took promptly. “I just joined your classes last week. You’re probably surprised to see someone of my age paying to go to university.”

“Age is nothing but a number,” John said dismissively, waving a hand. “I know that more than most. I don’t care about how old you are, just that you’re willing to listen and learn.”

“Oh, that I am. The lecture today was really interesting although I was wondering about your final question.” Wilf bit his lip as John stood up straighter, even more curious about this man. He couldn’t remember the last he had had a discussion about what he’d taught with someone else, excluding Clara. “You see, I was in a war myself but I could never pull the trigger. No bullet ever left my gun. So I’d have to argue that the human instinct for conflict isn’t one that can be ascribed to every person.”

John nodded his head. “And you’re right about that. If we could describe everyone throughout history in the same vain, paint everyone with the same brush stroke...then there would be no point in me teaching this subject. Life would be immensely boring.”

“Exactly, exactly,” Wilf agreed, happy that the lecturer hadn’t taken offence at him questioning his content.

“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss? I do have office hours for when you have pressing concerns but I’m free now for a few minutes if you need me.”

“Oh, no. With my job, I’m lucky to be able to fit in your talks to my hectic schedule. I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I just wanted to give you this.” He pulled a couple of pieces of paper, stapled together, out from somewhere in his coat jacket. John turned them over, eyeing the copious amount of writing scrawled across the pages. “One of the other students said that we had an essay due so I thought I’d get it done and out of the way.” He brushed his hands together as if he were cleaning them to signify his motives, nervously watching John’s expression as he looked over the work.

A frown was creasing the professor’s face. “You do know that...most submissions are done online? And typed?”

“Are they? Gosh. Well, the thing is...I don’t exactly have a computer. Sylvia said I couldn’t get one as they’re naughty. Is it going to be a problem? I could ask my granddaughter if I could use hers. I’m sure Donna has one. I think she works with computers, in fact!”

“Don’t worry,” John said with a smile, easing the other man’s worries. “I’ll let you into a secret. I much prefer handwritten work anyway. You very rarely see it nowadays, which is a shame. It always seems to convey more emotion and direct thought when it comes from a pen so I’ll be happy to take them in like this.”

“Thank you. That’s a weight off my mind.”

“Although, if you would prefer to give modern technology a try, the university campus does have an abundance of IT suites dotted around the place. I’m sure someone would show you where one is."

“I’ll give it some thought,” Wilf responded, unsure whether he trusted doing it digitally. “Thank you again. I’ll leave you to it.”

“See you next week for a new lecture.” John watched him leave as he finished up his packing away, not noticing that Clara had wandered in, passing Wilf, who nodded his head in her direction in a friendly manner. The English lecturer spotted the man she was searching for, not even surprised that the sight brought a smile to her face. His hair was messed up, probably from running his hands through it as he spoke to his attentive listeners. He was wearing a strange ensemble of clothing; she was sure that he had at least two hoodies on, complemented by a pair of blue chequered trousers. John’s back was to her as she snuck up, walking as quietly as she could, her grin growing larger the closer she got to him. When she was just within reach, she stretched out her arms and tickled his sides, making John jump in fright. Sheets of paper went flying and he turned around with an angry look, which melted away when he saw who it was.

He placed a hand on his chest as he controlled his breathing. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me?”

Clara pretended to think about it, making him even more annoyed. “That I should keep on doing it because your reactions are so hilarious? And also cute, I might add.”

“Very funny,” he said with a glare, picking up the paper. “Now what brings you to this part of the building?”

“You,” she replied instantly. John raised an eyebrow as her cheeks turned red. She could have probably worded that a bit more eloquently but she was still unsure about how to act around him after their...encounter of the romantic kind. They hadn’t spoken about it yet or discussed what it meant for them and her mind, which usually revelled in organisation and logic, was about to explode if she didn't get any answers. “I mean...you know what? I meant what I said. I came here to see you.”

“I’m flattered. Although, if I’m the only one in the university who you spend time with, then that says more about you than it does me.”

“Good. Because, as I’ve said before, I want to spend time with you. And, from what I can tell, you want the same thing.” Clara held up a hand before he could say anything. “There’s no need to deny it. We’ve made it pretty clear that there’s...something going on between us and I don’t want to fight it. So...you have a lunch break now, don’t you?”

“I do indeed,” he said curiously. “Have you been looking at my timetable?”

“Hush. That’s not important. What is, is that, since you chose where we went for our first date, I’m going to choose the location for the second. And it’s happening right now. So put your coat on and tuck your bag away.” She grabbed hold of his arm as she began to lead him away.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” he wondered, allowing the smaller figure to drag him along without complaint.

“Nope. All I’ll say is that you’re going to love it.”


	12. Confident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara decides to take John on a date

The sun was out and unusually bright as Clara dragged him out from the university plaza, as if even the day and weather knew that she wanted this moment to be perfect. Recently, she had started believing that someone was watching over her, guiding her, helping her. It was a comforting thought to fall back on, even though she had never been that religious. There was a strange voice in the back of her head that sounded just like her but slightly different, almost distorted, and it kept screaming at her to be more sceptical about this benevolent omnipotent force. Clara put it down to her normal self-destructive tendencies that had prevented her from being happy in the past, finding flaws in partners that meant any relationship could never continue. Resolutely, she had determined that it was time to silence that cautionary voice and just be thrilled that things were going her way. 

Some of their colleagues, ones she had never spoken to and probably wasn’t intending to change that, had given them peculiar looks as she’d hurried John through the building, practically tugging him by the ear like a parent chastising their child. They probably thought he was in some sort of danger judging from his expression, which was a mixture of fear, apprehension...and curiosity. This was likely the clearest showcase of her ‘bossy’ and ‘controlling’ personality, according to comments made by friends throughout her life, that he’d seen to date and there was a part of her that worried it would be too much for him, potentially scaring him off just as their...romance...was coming together. But John was tall and, despite appearances, suitably strong enough to stop her if he really wanted to; the fact that he hadn’t just put a smile on her face. 

The force of which she was using to guide him lessened once they were outside and John dusted himself off, straightening his hoodie and sorting his hair out. His efforts were completely in vain but it distracted him from the fear that Clara was about to put him on her motorcycle, which was parked in a small bay right in front of them. Thankfully, because he doubted whether his heart and bowels could cope with death-defying feats of speedily weaving through busy traffic, she pressed on past it, not looking back as she walked, expecting...no, knowing...that he would follow. John was only happy to comply, even if he was still unsure about what her plans were. He caught up with her fairly quickly, the advantage of having longer legs, as sidestepped past fellow members of the public, most of whom were too busy looking at mobile devices to see where they were going. One smartly-dressed man (you know the type - slicked-back hair, clean-shaven, expensive cufflinks of his shirt sleeve collar) had almost strolled directly into him and John had just about stopped himself from chucking his phone into the middle of the road. 

Much to his relief, they were soon in a quieter part of London, the pavement noticeably quieter and much easier to navigate. Every few minutes, he would ask Clara where they were going and if he needed to tell anyone in case she was about to murder him. She wouldn’t reply, too focused on reaching her destination, although a smirk would flicker on her lips at the sound of his fear. It did nothing to calm his nerves but who was she to complain if he thought she was that dangerous. It was the highest of compliments one could give you. Taking pity on her date, Clara intertwined her hand with his as they walked, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. It had been a casual move with hardly any thought but she realised that it was the first time they had held hands. Sure, they had kissed once before but this was different. Kisses could be an act of passion but this was done out of affection, something she was striving for. And it didn't feel weird or anything like that, which she had worried about slightly when she’d envisaged it late at night when sleep wasn’t on its way. What pleased her most was that John appeared nonplussed about her act of brazen courage. Unbeknownst to her, his heart was doing backflips in his chest as he realised how many more times he wanted to be able to do this. He was getting ahead of himself, he knew, but where was the fun in not getting carried away?

John hadn’t expected Clara to stop in front of the cafe they’d gone to on their first ‘date’ (he still had no idea whether they were classing it as anything romantic but he liked to think it was) but she was pushing through the door before he could ask any questions. The familiar jingle of the bell rang out, alerting Grace to their presence. She smiled knowingly at Clara, which only confused John further. Clara was doing well not to pick up on his disgruntled gaze. As a professor for many decades (far too many really), he wasn’t used to not knowing things - this was unchartered territory but that was becoming the norm when it concerned the woman he was with. He was hoping to get some answers from the owner of the establishment but, from the moment she started talking, he could tell she had been instructed to be annoyingly cryptic in the details she gave.

“Ah, there you are,” she greeted them happily. “My two favourite lovebirds.” The two visitors blushed at her words but didn't dispute the insinuations. “Well, there’s also another new couple that I’m fully behind but I won’t bore you with details about that.”

“Grace,” Clara bit out, a tad embarrassed. “We haven’t...labelled ourselves or anything yet.” She was refusing to look at John, more down to the fact her cheeks felt like they were on fire. 

“How very modern. Graham was very quick to call me his girlfriend once we started dating, even though he hated that word when we were so old. It was like he wanted to make sure everyone knew he had snatched me up. Gloating, I’d call it. Typical men.” She rolled her eyes but they both could tell it was laced with love and affection after years of marriage. 

“Have you sorted out the...thing?” Clara asked, moving to the counter. She pointed at John to tell him to stay where he was. He was annoyed at himself that he was so willing to do as he was told.

“I’ve done exactly as you instructed to the letter. I was so happy to get your phone call and even more thrilled when you told me your plan.”

“Well, it would be nice if someone could tell  _ me _ what’s going on,” John crumbled.

The two women told him to shush at the same time before Grace continued, pulling out a large, woven picnic basket. “Everything you wanted is in here. Graham added a few more sandwiches than you requested. He said something about you needing a balance in flavours or some rubbish like that. He just wanted to show off more of his skills.”

“How much do I owe you then?” Clara wondered as she discreetly opened one lid, peering at the contents inside and being pleased at what she saw. 

Grace waved her hand as if she were offended at the comment. “Absolutely nothing.”

Clara looked aghast. “I can’t not give you anything! There’s so much in here. You’ve really gone above what I expected. I’d feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Nonsense, dear,” Grace responded to reassure her. “There aren’t many moments in life when you can help love blossom but this is one such chance. I’m always a softie when it comes to romance. Just ask Graham. I’m always welling up at those cheesy movies about love finding a way. Let me do this for you. When I put it like that, I should be the one paying  _ you _ so be thankful that I’m not putting crisp notes in your hand right now.” Grave slid the basket towards Clara, a move that told her there was no room for any negotiation on the topic.

“Thank you,” Clara said earnestly. “You’ve really helped since I moved here and this is just another example of your brilliance.” She wasn’t normally a very affectionate person but Clara took a few steps forward and hugged Grace tightly. 

“It’s my pleasure. And I’m sure you’ll repay me with your many visits here in the future.” She winked at her customer and new friend. “Hopefully you two coming together more often. You look good as a duo.”

John didn't know what to do with the compliment so just smiled shyly as he ran a hand through his hair. “I have no idea what you’ve done but, if it’s made Clara as happy as she appears, then I’ll say thank you too.”

Grace waved them off as Clara picked up the basket, weaving her arm through the handles to carry it as they left the cafe. She could tell that John was constantly looking at the object, clearly curious about what was inside. It was obvious really that it was for a picnic - it was in the name. But he still had no clue where this picnic was happening or whether it was a big bluff and something completely different would be inside.

“Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me now?” he asked impatiently like a toddler in the backseat of a car on a long journey. 

Clara had taken hold of his hand again, using the one she had that was free. “Nope,” she replied simply, grinning wolfishly at his annoyance. “The question is, John Smith...do you trust me?”

He stared at her for a moment. Clara Oswald, the woman who had impossibly crashed into his life. He was tempted to call her his impossible girl but thought it might be too on the nose. She had wandered into his office by mistake and they had never looked back. He had known her for weeks and trust was usually something that was built over years of hard work and dedication. But, as he glanced at her, seeing how open her emotions were to him, that affection and fear pouring out from her large, brown eyes, he knew that this was just another impossible aspect about her, how she made him break his usual rules. “Clara Oswald, I’ll have you know that I do.”

**********

Ryan was trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes open as he stared at the computer screen, the copious lines of text blurring into an amorphous blob that had been rendered incomprehensible to him a long time ago. He was currently sitting in one of the computer labs on the university campus, what they called a ‘study place’. Rows of computers were set up along tables running across the walls and the centre of the room, currently occupied by numerous students who were in the same predicament as him. As he allowed himself to take a quick break (he wasn’t able to concentrate anyway), he slowly glanced around the area, spotting groups of friends sitting on sofas or beanbags, laughing and eating. They summed up the university experience, that it wasn’t just about doing the work and getting the grades you wanted so you could get a steady job in the future. No, it was also about forming connections, ones that would last for a lifetime if you were lucky, with other people. Watching them living that ideal made Ryan strangely sad as he realised he was yet to get close to having that. His time at university had been spent studying and listening to lectures, learning about different types of media and the English language. It was fascinating, he couldn’t deny that, but he also knew that the main reason he had dived head first into doing the work was because he didn't want to let his gran down. She had been so supportive of him over the years and she’d been over the moon when he’d told her he’d been accepted. So every day was an opportunity to show her that he was making the most of this chance and, sadly, wasting time with new friends hadn’t been his priority so far.

That didn't mean he didn't feel like he was missing out. Because he really did. He would have loved to have been over there with that exuberant group, swapping jokes and telling (mostly fictitious) stories. Ryan had never been that good at making friends, probably down to the lack of confidence he had after suffering with dyspraxia all his life. He didn't like blaming that for his problems that didn't directly connect to his struggle to balance and coordinate but he couldn’t deny that it had been a factor. Maybe, in a different life, he would have walked over there, introduced himself with a hopeful smile, and they would have accepted him straight away with open arms. Instead, he turned back around and looked at the computer screen again, letting out a heavy sigh as he supported his head with his hand. It was going to be a long day. There was only so much you could read about the life of Jane Austen before it began to sound all the same and excruciatingly repetitive. He guessed he didn't share the same level of love for her as Doctor Oswald did, who always spoke with a certain passion when that particular author came up in conversation. The reminder of the lecturer again made him think about another person he didn't want to let down - without really knowing him, she (he knew her name was Clara but he still felt a bit weird referring to her on a first name basis) had told him that he had real potential and that his work could be exceptional. No one had ever said that before, apart from people in his family, so it had meant a lot. He didn't want to reach their next meeting and see that he had disappointed her. 

“You know,” an unexpected voice said, “staring at them won’t make them come and say hi to you.”

Ryan looked away from his work, shocked and slightly embarrassed that someone had noticed. His eyes met those of a young woman, probably near his own age, who was leaning away from her computer that was behind his to talk to him. Her dark skin was matched by the rich brown of her eyes, her face framed by long black and brown hair that was neatly tied in cornrows. He was momentarily taken aback by how gorgeous she was, stunning, in fact. He wasn’t about to tell her that because it wasn’t something you really did to someone you just met but he was close to blurting it out. And she was talking to  _ him _ ! Her smile made her look even more stunning, a playful grin dazzling him so much so that he was struggling to remember what words were.

“Uh,” he stuttered. “I wasn’t...staring. Definitely not...staring. Nope. Not something I do.” He was trying his best not to sound like a creep but, the more he tried, the likelier it was that he was giving off that impression.

She laughed at how uncomfortable he was. “You really were. I’ll give you a tip for later attempts - try and be more subtle about it if you don’t want to be noticed.”

“Well...you must have been staring at me if you know that I was staring at them. Even though I definitely wasn’t.”

She sent him a flirtatious wink that made his brain shut down. “Maybe I was. And, unlike you, I don’t feel the need to hide that fact. You’re cute.”

Apart from his gran, no one had called him that. How was he supposed to respond to compliments? They never taught you that in primary school. “Um...thanks? I don’t really know...what to say now? Do I say something about you?”

She shrugged. “If you want. But make it positive or this conversation will get really awkward very fast.” She was messing with him again, he knew that much and what surprised him was that he didn't mind. “So...care to explain why you were so fascinated by them?”

“I’m allowed to look around!” Ryan defended himself. “There aren’t any laws against it.”

“I’m just curious. You looked quite sad.”

Ryan had never met someone so forward and it made her rather intriguing. He looked down at his desk, hating how she had seen straight through him. Was it that obvious? “Just a bit jealous, you know? I’m still to make any friends here yet and...seeing them all together...yeah, I guess I started thinking that maybe it won’t happen.”

“Have you tried to make friends?” she asked, not trying to be cynical or nasty. Ryan could tell that she was honestly trying to help him. He had no clue why. Some people were just kind. Or maybe a god was looking down upon him, sending him an angel. That was a super corny line and he was glad he hadn’t voiced it.

“When you put it like that, it sounds easy. But I reckon it’s the most difficult thing to do on the planet. Talking to new people...makes me shiver just thinking about it.”

“You’re talking to me so is this an awful experience for you?”

Ryan gave her a small, shy smile. “Not in the slightest. But you did start the conversation so it doesn’t count. Don’t be getting all smug or anything.”

“How would you know if I’m someone who can be smug? You don’t know me,” she shot back in challenge, an eyebrow raised as she waited for his response.

“Then it’s my duty to get to know you. So I can make a reasoned conclusion instead of guessing. Purely out of scientific interest, of course.”

“Of course,” she said with a keen smile. “You’re suddenly very confident for someone who says they can’t make friends.”

“I have my moments.” In actual fact, he had absolutely no idea how or why he was talking like this. He was basically a puppet, being controlled by an invisible force. He was like a different person. Where was this Ryan when Angelica Roberts had asked him to the school dance and he’d ran away out of fear despite wanting to say yes? “Are you one of these people that are super confident?”

“Do I seem that way?” she wondered, looking at him as if she really wanted to know the answer. She was propping her head up with her hands as she stared at him. It was quite an intense gaze, especially when he looked at it for too long.

“Definitely.”

“Then you should be complimenting my acting skills. You don’t see me sitting in a large group of people having fun, do you? I’m in the same spot as you, working away, keeping my head down. They just don’t understand the pressure we’re under to perform.” She looked over at the group and Ryan was surprised to see a small element of disdain in her eyes. “If we didn't do well...get bad grades or something...then some people would try to use that as a reason to explain why we shouldn’t be here. Not a lot of people but some. And that’s always enough. They don’t have that level of scrutiny hanging over their shoulders.”

The conversation had taken a drastic turn but Ryan was somehow still wanting to talk to her. She seemed wiser than her years and passionate about this topic, something his gran had ingrained into him too. “Is it really that big of a problem here?”

“Not here precisely. Way over the majority of students here are politically active and support equality for everyone. It’s the people outside of the university that are the problem. The ones who watch the news at night and think they know everything. One person says something negative and then hundreds more think they can do the same.”

“Which makes it vitally important that people like us stick together. Is that why you started talking to me?”

She was smiling again, focusing on him. “You could say that. And, like I already said, you’re cute. I have taste.”

Ryan, still slightly nervous, shy, and bemused as to why someone would think he was cute, was smiling too. “I’ve never had an admirer before. What’s your name? I just realised I haven’t asked yet.”

“Bella. And you?”

“Ryan. It’s nice to meet you, Bella.”

“I was just about to say the same thing, Ryan.”

**********

John could easily tell that Clara was giddy with excitement as they entered a part of London that was unexpectedly quiet, especially compared to the rest of the city. There were still the usual buildings, tall and foreboding as they loomed above them, but it was the capital so what could you expect? What surprised him, especially since he had been living in the area for quite some time now, was that there was a lot more open space in the part Clara had dragged him to. Neat parks surrounded by ornate walls, old trees lining the pavement. It was like a scene from a movie made by someone who didn't really know what London actually looked like. It was so at odds with the rest of the urban environment that he had been forced to do a sort of double take when they’d arrived. If he hadn’t have known any better, John would have promptly guessed that an almighty being had picked it up from somewhere else and placed it here on a whim. 

“How...how have I never seen this place before?” he wondered aloud, making Clara look back at him from where she was walking ahead. She had been leading them for nearly fifteen minutes and the sustained quick pace she was going at was beginning to make his knees scream at the horror they were being put through.

“Maybe you just don’t go out into the world enough,” she pointed. “How often have you spent a night tucked away in your house, working or reading or looking at a screen...when this was right on your doorstep?”

“The question is...how did you find it before me? I’m sure someone would have mentioned it before to me. Everyone talks about the pains of living in a city but you still have spots like that where they try to keep the natural environment alive. Is this where you tell me that you’re secretly magic and created this yourself, your own personal haven?”

She let out a small laugh at his comment, music to his ears. “I wish. The story is pretty boring actually. So much so that I can’t really remember the moment properly.” That point should have worried her more than it did but she was simply too happy to care. “I think it was something like my second or third day here and I was trying to find...I can’t remember what, actually. But what matters is that I inevitably got lost and had to use my phone for directions. For some mystifying reason, it took me here en route and I fell in love with the area.”

“The wonders of modern technology,” he said, more derisively than he’d anticipated. Was he just an old man being cynical about new advancements? 

“Exactly,” Clara continued, obviously ignoring his sarcasm. “I’ll help you get with the times at some point. You’re missing out on so much by ignoring the latest inventions.”

“I’ll have you know that I pride myself on how up to date I am, thank you very much,” he shot back, defending himself and his honour. He didn't want her to think that he was lacking in any way. He wanted to be perfect for her.

She was laughing again but it was affectionate, he could tell. “I saw you using  _ Internet Explorer _ the other day. Internet Explorer! Most of our students will know that existed.” She looked suddenly pale as a devastating thought washed over her. “Does...does that mean that I’m... _ old _ ?”

John was quick to move by her side, his hands gently pushing her elbows to keep her walking. “Not in the slightest. You’re a young and beautiful woman, anyone can see that.”

“Beautiful, hmm?” she asked, suddenly smiling again. It was more of a playful grin and he felt his heartbeat double at the sight. Clara cupped his face carefully, both of them still somehow walking even though the last thing they were focusing on was the rest of the world. “You keep surprising me with how much of a smooth talker you are.”

“You make it easy for me,” he said in response, feeling like he was on a roll. John had never been much of a suave ladykiller like the ones you saw in films. He was less James Bond and more James Corden, to put it succinctly. “And, of course, when you’re standing next to an old git like me, you’ll look even more stunning.”

Clara stopped walking to look at him, a frown on her face and her arms folded. “I don’t see you as old. Not in the slightest.”

“Then maybe you should get your eyes checked out because I am…”

“No,” she interrupted. “Stop it. Please.” She reached out a hand and tenderly stroked his face. It was such an intimate act that John was slightly alarmed about doing it in public. “It’s not about how many lines there are on your face, which really do not detract from how roguishly handsome you are...it’s about the vibrancy of life you hold in your heart. And I know that you’re just as young mentally as you were...thirty years ago. That’s all I care about.” She kissed his cheek quickly to emphasise her point. “Do you understand, mister?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied dutifully. It was pretty much all he could say, so stunned he was that someone thought so passionately about him. 

“Good.” Clara linked her arm with his and they began to walk again as she rested her head on him slightly. They walked in silence for a moment before John realised that she was staring at something up ahead. He followed her line of sight and his eyes landed upon a house, tucked away between the towers and skyscrapers. Like the rest of the area, it seemed out of place, taken from a different time and location. It was a soft red in colour, a white porch built in front of it. A ‘For Sale’ sign was wedged into the ground in the front garden.

“What’s so interesting about that house?” he asked, breaking her from her reverie. 

Clara looked embarrassed that she’d been caught out. “Oh...nothing. I just remember it from the last time I was here. I just thought it was so...beautiful. Like the home you dream of growing up as a kid. You picture running about with your children along the grass, your husband watching on fondly until he joins in too.” She gave John a quick look. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t be talking about stuff like that on what is really only our second date. I’ll scare you off if I can carry on.”

“I like it,” he said fondly, smiling at her. “It’s for sale. Thought about buying it to have that future.”

“Don’t even tempt me,” she replied forlornly. “As soon as I got back, I was searching on the website, looking at it. To say it is out of my price range is an understatement. If I save all my money for the next fifty years, only eat every day and never go on holiday again...then maybe I’ll be able to afford the front door. Who knows...maybe I’ll win the lottery. One can dream.” She led John away from the house, putting it to the back of her mind. 

They eventually came upon the spot she had planned to take him to. It was a small hill covered only in trimmed blades of grass. Clara, not stopping, proceeded to storm up the hill, John following slowly behind. By the time he reached the top, she was already rolling out a tartan blanket under the shade of a solitary oak tree, reaching into the basket Grace had given her to get out various amounts of food wrapped up in tin foil and tupperware boxes. The sheer volume of food she had made John conclude that the basket must be bigger on the inside to fit it all in. She was arranging it out orderly and, for a short moment, he chose to watch her at work, fascinated with how concentrated she was with her task. It showed how much effort she had put into this, whereas he had just booked a table at a restaurant.

Clara gave him an expectant look once she’d finished, patting the rug she was sat on. “Come on. There’s a lot of food here and I’ll need help eating it all.” She smiled when he lowered himself down; she instinctively moved closer to him once he was sitting. 

“You did all of this?” he asked in awe. 

“Grace did all of this. And Graham, who cooked. I just chose the spot.”

John looked around at the scene around them. The hill, like everything else near them, didn't seem to fit in with the environment. But he had to admit that it was a beautiful view. With the sun hanging above them, the entire city of London was bathed in light before them, shadows standing in the distance. “And how did you find this spot? Don’t tell me that you stumbled across it.”

“I’m going to tell you exactly that. When I found this place, I had to nosy around, which included invariably walking up this hill. When I reached the top and experienced the view for the first time...my breath was taken away. I know that’s a cliche but it really happened.”

“I know exactly what you’re talking about,” John said softly but he wasn’t looking at the scenery, instead gazing at her silhouette. She turned her head to notice where he was looking, blushing a brilliant red. 

“Excusing your fantastic attempts at flirting...I was in awe of this place. It felt like I could sit here and I wasn’t just someone else walking around London. I feel like this is my own little part of the city that I own. And I wanted to share it with you.”

“Thank you.” His voice was earnest and honest, beyond happy that she had felt she could bring him into this little secret she kept. “How often do you come here?” John tucked into a few cocktail sausages, as well as taking a bite of a chicken and bacon sandwich. Clara had chosen a ham and cheese baguette, digging into a bag of crisps. 

“Probably once a week. But...maybe we could...start coming more frequently? We could have lunch dates when we’re not too busy working. When it’s not raining of course.” Her voice was small and unsure, and he thought it was the most endearing thing he’d ever seen.

Instead of answering, he took her face in his hands and kissed her squarely on the lips. It was tender and sweet and bordering on passionate. To Clara, it was just as stunning as the view they had and definitely more interesting. It was safe to say that their food remained untouched for a short time afterwards as they enjoyed each other’s company instead. They were so engrossed that they didn't see a short man in a tweed jacket looking over at them, smiling triumphantly.


	13. Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz is presented with an opportunity that she has to take.

They’d put her on the night shift again. It was like they enjoyed messing with her, wasting her capabilities that she knew she had. Yaz didn't really know which was worse though out of working during the day or night. At least things happened at night more regularly, although that usually meant separating drunk women from warring hen parties. But she got on with the job because she was told to and because, one day, they would look back on her career and see that she never complained once. Hopefully that would come up when they were choosing who to promote. She could dream. That was the thing that kept her going. That belief was driving her when she reached those low moments, a defiant adamance that the situation would get better regardless of the fact that there had been no signs of that happening thus far. Growing up, her parents and teachers had always complained about her stubbornness at times; it seemed now that it was proving to be vitally important for her future prospects.

It was that, combined with her burgeoning relationship with Jo, that kept a smile on her face.  _ Relationship _ . Even thinking the word made a blush suddenly warm her cheeks. Was it a relationship? They’d got  _ very _ intimate that Sunday morning, which she kept replaying in her head because she felt that, if she stopped thinking about it for even one moment, she would realise that it wasn’t real. And that would shatter her heart beyond repair. They’d explored each other’s bodies in a way that Yaz had never known was possible but they hadn’t gone too far. They could tell that the other was incredibly nervous, not just from the rapid speed of their respective heartbeats. Yaz was perfectly alright with taking things slow because it meant they could savour every little moment, building up to a crescendo. She also had never  _ been _ with a woman before (she’d kissed a couple throughout the years but that was it) so that was adding to her apprehension. She had no idea about Jo’s romantic past either, whether she had more experience. It wasn’t an easy question to bring up into normal conversation. After they’d stopped to catch their breath, they’d spent the rest of the morning talking and getting to know each other in another fashion but it had gone far too quickly for Yaz’s liking. Before long she was forced to leave. Forced to go back to work. Forced to go back to the night shift.

Walking along the quiet street, lit up by old street lamps, Yaz was busy muttering under her breath, cursing Delgado for not seeing how brilliant she could be if given the chance. All she needed was a moment to prove herself. That was all. Was that too much to ask the universe to give her? Yeah, probably. She would be resigned to walking the streets forever, dealing with parking disputes and the odd mad person, before she eventually got a mediocre pension and a retirement party that was put together at the last minute because everyone forgot. Along with a card that was signed by people who had no idea who she was and no intention to change that. Okay, that was a pretty cynical outlook on life but that’s what happened when you roamed London’s high streets at the dead of night.

She was lost in her grumpy thoughts when she first heard the noise. There was a loud smash from around the corner that she was heading towards, the unmistakable sound of glass breaking. Already on high alert, Yaz then was further put on edge by the muted ring of an alarm. Something bad was happening, she could tell that easily. But she needed a better look to understand the situation more clearly so she slowly approached the building that the alarm was blaring from. Crouching behind the wall, she saw a blue van clumsily parked over the curb, its engine running but no one inside. The front window of the building was smashed in, jagged edges of glass scattered across the ground that made her task even more difficult. Yaz patted her pants and jackets, looking for anything to defend herself with. Of course, she didn't carry a gun. Only the top dogs in the constabulary did. But she did have her taser (courtesy of the weekend away in Belfast to complete her training with hundreds of other young officers). 

Approaching the shop window, she peeked inside, keeping low to prevent being spotted. There was no one else around but she was still surprised that no one had heard the commotion. Inside, she spotted three figures, all dressed in black. From their frames, she could tell that they were all male and well-built. They were rummaging through display cases and the till at the desk, Yaz realising that she was looking at the inside of a jewellers shop. It was a clumsy job they’d done, evidently not planning it very well, which gave her a chance. The chance she had been looking for. She backed up slightly whilst reaching down to get her comms device.

“Hello, copy...this is PC Officer Khan calling in,” she spoke quietly into the device. “There’s a burglary in progress at…” She paused to get the name of the shop. “Baker and Baker Jewellery Co off the corner of…” She stopped when she realised she was talking to no one. The only noise she was met with was the buzzing hum of static. Yaz banged her hand against it to try and make it work properly but, as she’d expected, it was to no avail. Her head rested against the wall as the situation sunk in. There was no way to contact them quickly enough for them to get support over in time to apprehend the robbers. Calling them over the phone would take too long. Which meant, if she wanted to stop this crime from probably going unpunished, she would have to do it on her own. From what she’d seen, none of them were carrying guns but that could have been because of the dark they were operating in. Yaz took a steady breath, gripping her taser tightly. 

She was by the glass again. Two of the assailants were gone, presumably looking through the back rooms where more of the expensive items would be kept. The one remaining had their back to her, allowing her to creep through the hole they’d made. One sharp edge caught her pants and made a small hole, making her wince but no blood was drawn. The figure was shoving money into a black travel bag, too focused on their treasure to notice her silently getting closer. The taser would make a lot of noise, alerting the other two to her presence, which would probably prove fatal. She noticed an abandoned crowbar lying on the floor, presumably used by the trio to break into the cases. Yaz picked it up and, just as the person was about to turn around, she swung it with all her might at his head. He crumpled to the floor, also banging his head on the cabinet, lying unconscious. Not taking any chances, she tore more material from her ripped pants, creating a strip to tie his legs together and cuffed his hands. 

Quickly moving on, she stepped carefully towards the open door. The two of them were together, picking through boxes and bags of gold and silver adornments and pieces. There was no point in being subtle now so she wielded the taser and fired it right into the back of one of them. An electric snap shot out, a fizzing sound being unleashed as it connected with his back. They fell to the floor in a heap, shouting out for a second before being knocked out by the hundreds of volts running through their body. The issue was that his partner had turned around understandably at the sight, facing Yaz. Even through the mask he was wearing, she could see a mixture of emotions playing out on his face. Anger that his comrade had gone down, fear that they’d been caught. For a second, they stood there in silence, looking at each other in apprehension. She was having to wait for the taser to charge up again, the one disadvantage of that weapon. 

Holding her hands up, Yaz attempted to take the diplomatic approach, hoping to talk him down. He was much larger than her, which meant if he tried to attack, she’d be in even greater trouble. “Look, I’m a police officer so you don’t want to make this any worse than it already is. If you cooperate now I...could put in a good word for you. It won’t be a lot but you’d definitely have it better than your friends here.”

There was one moment of silence when she thought he was going to listen to her. But then the next moment came. He pulled out a gun that she hadn’t seen, a small thing that had been in his pocket. Her eyes widened as her world slowed down. Yaz instinctively moved out of the way as he fired at her but was only able to get so far out of the way, the bullet instead grazing across her shoulder and then firing into the wall behind her. Although she was thanking her luck that he was a bad shot, a huge amount of pain was running through her body and she could feel the blood swelling up. Feeling faint, she took a stumbling step, falling to the ground. The burglar attempted to run but, before he could get too far, Yaz had enough strength to pick up the taser, saw that it was ready, and shot it towards him. The wires came firing out again and caught him in between the shoulders, sending him to the floor with a satisfying thump.

Yaz brought a shaky hand to her shoulder, bringing it back to see it bathed in the red hue of blood. The sight was an unsettling one and her vision was already going slightly blurry. Mustering up the last remnants of her strength, the adrenaline beginning to wear off, she crawled over to where she could see a phone on the desk and dialled 999, hoping that help would come soon.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before a fleet of police cars, their lights flashing blue across the street and ugly sirens wailing, arrived at the scene yet, to Yaz, it had felt like an eternity. The pain in her shoulder kept throbbing. Every few seconds, she would think that she had got past the worst of it only for the agony to come back tenfold. She could remember a few medics running towards her when everyone got there, shining lights in her eyes and assessing the damage caused. From their mumbled discussion, she could tell that she had been pretty lucky to escape with her life intact, although she wasn’t necessarily feeling that way. They dressed her wounds in the back of an ambulance, which told her that it wasn’t too serious, keeping her conscious all the time. Her head was banging and the one thing she really wanted to do was close her eyes and rest for a while but they would have none of it. At one point, Yaz managed to distract herself from the torment as she watched the assailants get dragged into the back of a police van, the back door slamming shut on them. She should have felt something towards them. Anger maybe. That they had so nearly taken her life away and for what? Greed? Perhaps they had a hidden story that would come out when they were interrogated. But there was probably only one reason for what they did - they just could. And it frightened Yaz that people with no proper motives could have caused so much damage. She was trying not to think about what her family would be like if the worst had happened, vowing to call them when she had a free moment. How would Jo have reacted? The thought made her hands shake and the medics had thought something was wrong until she’d assured them that it had nothing to do with the wound. 

There were more officers than she’d anticipated for something that she felt was a relatively small incident. Then she spotted Delgado, dressed in a fine suit that surely he wouldn’t have been wearing normally at such a late hour, having a quiet word with Sergeant Pertwee and another older fellow who she didn't recognise. Their expressions were all rather grave and she wanted to know what they were talking about. It seemed that her wish had come true when the trio began to walk over to her, Pertwee quietly asking the medics a question before they walked away. The sergeant had a kind smile on his face that Yaz wanted to trust but she was still unsure as to how she should act. It was much better than the look she was getting from her supervisor, his face stern and his mouth set in a grim line. His arms were crossed as he stared at her silently and he continued to study her as Pertwee stepped closer.

“PC Khan,” he began. “How are you feeling?” He was crouched down in front of her, observing her expression and the way her eyes darted around.

“...okay...sir. All things considered,” she replied in a small voice. Why was she so intimidated by him? She had just done something great and yet she still felt like the young woman on her first day, running around as she got everyone a coffee. 

Pertwee appeared to look at her bandaged wound. “Ah yes. I was told about what happened inside. We’re all glad that you weren’t seriously hurt, even though you’ll probably have a scar now. But count yourself lucky and consider it as a badge of honour.” His hand ghosted across his arm, where his own scar lay hidden. “It was incredibly brave what you did here tonight, I hope you know that.”

“Don’t forget to add that it was also frustratingly reckless and infuriatingly stupid,” Delgado snapped, only stopping his tirade when Pertwee gave him a pointed look. 

“Be that as it may, you did good today. Be assured that wheels are in motion for your actions to be recognised.” She was surprised when he winked at her; he was quickly beginning to feel like a fatherly figure with how charming he was. “I won’t rest until you get what you deserve. Maybe I’ll throw in my own personal commendation to oil the old cogs, as they say.”

“Sir...may I ask something?”

“Anything, PC Khan. Anything.”

“This seemed like a pretty small scale robbery. Why has there been such a massive response? Especially at this time!” If they had been anywhere other than London, they might have called it dark but the city’s artificial lights were still blinking and blinding as ever. 

“Ah, that will be my fault,” the man Yaz didn't know spoke up for the first time. His voice was booming, his white hair, although short, still curly and his eyes were wild and mischievous. He was dressed in a green tweed jacket with a red neckerchief in the pocket, yellow and red chequered pants completing the outfit. Yaz’s mum would call him a  _ character  _ and that definitely seemed accurate from first impressions. “I’m one of the Bakers on the sign, you see. My colleague felt that it would be a bit over the top if we both came. Those men were trying to steal from me. Me!”

“Mr Baker runs one of the most successful jewellers in the city,” Pertwee cut in to explain. “But is also one of the largest donors to the force’s budget.”

“Yes, I’ve written a fair few cheques for you lot,” Baker said with a wry chuckle. 

“So when we heard that it was his business that had been targeted, we felt it was only right that we show the necessary force as a sign of...gratitude.”

Yaz stopped herself from thinking too hard about it although she wanted to ask why any other smaller business didn't deserve the same level of intervention and help. That was another battle to deal with on another day and her shoulder was causing her pain again. 

“I’m so very grateful for your actions tonight,” Baker added earnestly, shaking her hand with so much force that she winced. “Not only will I be making another generous donation in your name...if you need anything to help you on your journey, I’m just a phone call away.” With a smile, he slipped a business card into her hand and put his arms around the two other men’s shoulders, Delgado quickly shrugging away from his touch. “Let’s leave the fine young lady to recuperate for the time being. She needs rest and those doctors are giving us some dirty looks as we keep them from her! Thank you again, PC Khan!” 

She was able to get her breath back once they were gone for only a moment, her pant pocket vibrating as her phone rang. Without looking at who it was, she picked up, grimacing as the recognisable voice shouted down the line.

“Yaz!” It was Jo, worry clearly evident in her voice. “I’ve been calling for at least half an hour! Are you okay? What happened? They haven’t given a lot of detail.”

“Woah, woah...slow down,” Yaz said, sliding a hand down her tired face. “How do you know something has happened?”

“It’s all over the news! I have it playing in my office! They said you’d been hurt!”

Yaz looked up, only just noticing the camera crews that were set up around the scene. She was surprised that no one had come to interview her. Maybe they’d been told by the medics to leave her be, which she was thankful for. “What are you still doing at work?”

“Me? You know I spend too much time here. That’s nothing new. But who cares? Tell me what happened! Do I need to come down? Are there doctors there with you? Are they looking after you properly? Put me on the phone, I’ll have a word with them. Tell them how important you are. We can’t have a world without Yasmin Khan.”

Yaz smiled despite the onslaught of questions and the frantic pace Jo was talking at. Had she said she thought she was  _ important _ ? Even the sound of her voice had seemed to calm Yaz down slightly, the pain dulling. She had no doubt that the other woman had magic running through her body. “I’m okay, I’m okay. Don’t worry. The medics have been brilliant with me. It was just my shoulder that got hit, nothing serious.”

“Hit? Yaz...what happened? Tell me.” Jo’s voice was deadly serious now and Yaz could picture the way her brow would be furrowed.

“So maybe...one of them had a gun. And fired at me. But I got out of the way!” Yaz added quickly before Jo inevitably exploded in anger. “Mainly. The sergeant said I’ll have a scar but then I’ll look dangerous, won’t I? People won’t mess with me then.”

“Why did you do it?” The question was soft and hesitant this time. 

“I saw them inside and my instincts kicked in. I didn't really think about it in the moment. I knew I just had to do something.”

“Did you...did you think about me though? I know it sounds so selfish and you need to know how proud I am of you but...if it had gone wrong...I only just met you but...I feel like…”

She began to falter so Yaz spoke instead. “I know. And I’m sorry for putting you through this. But I’m okay. Perfectly fine. Just a bit sore. You can reprimand me all you want when you next see me.”

“Oh I won’t be doing that,” Jo assured her. “After I almost lost you tonight, I’ll be kissing you senseless.”

**********

The night had drawn in already but that didn't concern them as they sat on the sofa, the fire roaring in the corner providing some much needed heat. That was despite Clara having quickly found a blanket to wrap around herself, making her look even smaller than usual. John would describe her appearance as adorable if he were more inclined to talk like that. He’d certainly made progress with his ability to open up and be more affectionate but there was definitely work still to be done. He was facing a rather large issue though in that he had no idea what to do. They’d been alone together, that was for sure, but never  _ alone _ , in an otherwise empty apartment, soft music playing and his head beginning to suffer from the couple glasses of wine he’d consumed throughout the night.

Clara had asked him a few days ago whether he was free at the weekend, wondering if he would want to come and pay a visit to her home for the first time. She had been biting her lip in that way he found completely irresistible (he wouldn’t have been able to say no even if he had wanted to), showcasing how nervous she was about suggesting this. It was yet another big step they were taking in their burgeoning relationship. Of course, he had seen the inside of her flat before when he’d picked her up for their first proper date but this was undeniably different. And he had no prior experience of what to do, especially in the scary modern world. Would she be expecting him to do something? Make a move? Is that what the kids called it nowadays? John had spent, what felt like to him, at least seven hours looking in the mirror, building up his confidence, telling himself that there was no reason to be scared or anxious. This was Clara they were talking about after all. She liked him, she had made that much perfectly clear already. And if she wanted something, he knew she was the sort of person to come out and say it. 

When he’d arrived at her apartment, dressed in a sort of smart-casual way (which consisted of a polo shirt and chinos), his nervousness had instantly abetted once he’d seen her large smile. He’d thought she looked wonderful in the simple outfit of a white jumper and black jeans although he was sure he would think she looked wonderful in anything, including a bin bag. As soon as he stepped foot inside her ‘small bit of London’, as she referred to it, a sense of normality had washed over him. It was like he had been with her for years, not months and it probably should have bothered him more than it did that he felt like he  _ knew _ her better than reality suggested. Clara had greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, immediately taking a hold of his arm like she normally did to drag him further inside. Every so often, they would accidentally touch one another and they would shyly look at each other, as if they were school children just beginning to understand what the opposite sex were.

There had been no time for sitting down and relaxing like John had expected since Clara directed him into the kitchen straight away. It seemed that she had decided it would be fun if they cooked together, a messy cooking book lying open in wait. She had remarked that it was a sneaky way of assessing how good he was domestically, even though she had sabotaged her covert operation by telling him that. A warm sensation had spread through his body at her small confession as he thought that there would be more opportunities like this in the future, where it would be the norm for them. It was almost an unspoken promise that they both wanted that. The cooking had gone surprisingly smoothly as well, which was a pleasant bonus. John tended to the meat, watching it brown and sizzle in the pan, as Clara dealt with mashing the potatoes, displaying a strength that slightly terrified him. As with every other aspect of her life, she had been laser focused on her task, wanting to do as good a job as possible. They worked well together, like they were a part of a well-oiled machine, moving in sync with one another, dancing around the kitchen. The only time they had stopped to take a break was when John had noticed a tendril of Clara’s hair had fallen out of place, obscuring part of her face as she mercilessly diced some carrots. He had softly put it back where it should be, kissing her on the forehead once he’d done. Clara had stared up at him affectionately before pouncing, pushing him back against the cabinet as she kissed him. They were forced to stop when the faint smell of burning caught their attention, quickly acting to save the meal.

In the end, they had sat at the table with a perfectly edible pie on their plates, rich gravy forming a pool around it. It wouldn’t win any Michelin stars but John still saw it as one of his favourite meals. He didn't know when he had begun to stop properly cooking like this. Maybe he had come to the realisation one day that going to that much effort just for himself wasn’t really worth it, resorting to microwaveable meals for one or the simplest of dishes that could be prepared within half an hour. Now he had Clara in his life, he found that he wanted to start trying again and the night had shown him he still had some skills left. As they ate, they joked and laughed about inconsequential things, mainly because there was no pressure on them to have big conversations like when you went on a first date. At times, a silence would ensue for a few moments but it was comfortable. And that was when they both knew that they had something special in front of them.

At one point, John had been far too tempted when he saw the small piano sitting in the corner of her living room, hidden away under sheets of paper and books. You could tell that an English teacher lived here. Messing about, he had played a few tunes from memory, finding he was slightly rusty on the ivory keys. He was even brave enough to sing, his deep, gravelly voice ringing out as Clara watched in fascination. He was lost in his own little world as he was absorbed by the music, allowing her to look at him without any worry of being noticed. He was so carefree, so unlike the facade he portrayed at the university of the scary professor. She had been reluctant to join in when he prompted her to, claiming that she had no form of singing voice whatsoever. But he had looked at her with pleading eyes, smiling triumphantly when she had taken a seat next to him at the piano, the two of them making up a duet that the outside world would declare as ‘shoddy’.

They were now on the sofa, Clara in the blanket as mentioned. She was looking at him in a scrutinising fashion as she sipped from her glass. It was the sort of look that made him incredibly nervous because he never knew what she was going to ask. And he certainly would never have predicted her next question. “Are you happy, John?”

He nearly spat out his drink at the query. “That’s a rather deep question. Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just curious. You’re actually quite unreadable at times.”

“It’s because I’m a man of mystery,” he said in an ominous voice, waving his hand in front of his face. “In what sense are you asking?”

“Every sense. Were you happy before you met me? Are you still happy?” She was sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed, looking eagerly at him, her eyes inflated in that way he didn't know was possible.

“I’m incredibly happy now,” he admitted with a small smile. “Maybe I was slightly bored with...being alone. It can be difficult. But I had work to concentrate on and that gave me something to do.”

“Have you always been so...dedicated to your work? You make it seem that there was nothing else besides it.”

John shrugged. “I guess so? I’ve never really thought about it. I was brought up to be studious, conscientious. I never handed in a piece of homework late because I didn't want to see the looks of disappointment on my parents’ faces. That’s not to say they would have been angry or anything...I just didn't want to let them down.”

“And when you moved to London...nothing changed?”

“It was a while ago. So much so that I can barely remember the specifics. But you’ll have already seen how much time being a professor takes up from your life. I didn't have the opportunity to socialise or go out partying, even though I didn't really want to. Can you imagine  _ me _ in a  _ club _ ? It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Clara was smiling now as she pictured it, John dancing awkwardly in the middle of a rave. “I am definitely taking you to one now. No debate.” She laughed at his expression, a sense of dread washing over him as he contemplated the ramifications. 

“Now...I’ve slightly opened up so it’s your turn. What were you like growing up?”

“You wouldn’t be interested in all that,” she replied dismissively. “It’s nothing intriguing.”

“Of course I do! I want to know every little detail about you.  _ Everything _ about you is important to me.”

“Really?” She was surprised at how earnest he sounded. When he nodded his head encouragingly, she smiled and stood up, heading towards one of her many bookshelves. After perusing for a few moments, she found what she was looking for, returning with a large photo album. She opened it up on her lap, inviting John to slide closer to her. “This is the easiest and more entertaining way to show you what I was like.”

The first photo of her was on the beach in a garish pink swimsuit and a large floppy hat. “This was my first trip out. My mum always loved the beach, the way the sand got stuck between your toes. She just loved travelling in general, always saying that she would take me to every continent on the planet.”

John smiled softly as he saw the wistful look on her face. “And is that her?” he asked, pointing to a young brunette woman in the corner of the photograph.

“Yeah,” Clara breathed softly, a sigh escaping her lips. “She was the best mother you could ask for.”

“Well, I can see where you get your good looks from,” John said, nudging her gently. She chuckled although her heart wasn’t really in it. “She looks like she was a wonderful person. You can tell how happy she was.”

“Oh, she really was. I never heard her complain. Although that could just be the innocence of youth talking.”

“She would be proud of you, you know,” he told her with a smile. “Mainly because you have such great taste in men.” John playfully pecked her on the nose and it seemed to cheer her up a bit.

They perused through more photographs, travelling through time as they watched Clara grow up. There were pictures from her birthdays, cake covering her face, and holidays where her cheeks would be painted white with suncream. There was one particular photo that stood out from a fancy dress party - all the girls were dressed as princesses apart from Clara, who was beaming away in a pirate outfit, a stuffed parrot placed on her shoulder. 

After a while, Clara noticed that her glass had gotten dangerously empty so she told John to keep flicking through whilst she topped up their drinks. Alone in the living room, it was then that he came across a picture of a young Clara playing in her room. She had dolls in her hand and her grin was large but he wasn’t focusing on that. There was something in the background that was jumping out at him. A doll’s house, wooden and painted red with white fencing around it. John dropped the book when he realised it was identical to the house she had picked out during their trip into London, the one that had stood out like a sore thumb. He looked at it again, confirming he was right. It was exactly the same. How was that possible? Was it just a coincidence? He couldn’t think about it too much as Clara returned, prompting him to move to another page quickly. But he knew that something really wasn’t right with what he’d just seen.


	14. Promotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz learns that attention has its ups and downs, just as the barriers between worlds show signs of deterioration.

Only a few days had passed since the  _ incident _ , as she was now referring it to. The day straight after the attempted burglary and shooting had been surprisingly relaxed after the excitement of the night before. She had been instructed to take it easy and relax, with no worry about her missing a day at work. Yaz had actually wanted to go in, feeling that a grazed shoulder was nothing that would stop her from doing her best. Her superiors had strongly argued against that though, giving her no choice. Jo had been particularly happy about that, who, to the surprise of Yaz, had used up one of her holiday days that she’d been saving to look after her. That had mainly involved watching films as they sat on the sofa, Jo cooking up a chicken broth since it was the ‘best sort of medicine’ according to the blonde woman. There had been a few moments of intimacy, a couple of stolen kisses that were close to getting heated, but nothing too serious, Jo too worried about hurting Yaz. It had just been  _ nice _ and the young officer hadn’t had too many days like that since moving to London. It was a realisation that may have once made her upset, probably making her question her decision to move away from Sheffield. But, as she’d rested her head on Jo’s shoulder, she came to the conclusion that it was a positive thought; she was certainly having more  _ nice _ moments since meeting the other woman, which surely meant that even more were on their way. And that was, to put it mildly, incredibly exciting.

It wasn’t all plain sailing though. Despite her outward assurances, Yaz still suffered at times with her shoulder. It would go stiff or numb at random moments throughout the day, catching her off guard, and it would take at least ten minutes every time to move past the pain. The doctors had said it would be likely that something along those lines could happen but she’d always thought that she had a stronger resolve than what was apparent now. It also kept sapping at her energy, often leaving her lethargic and frustratingly tired. Maybe Pertwee and Delgado had been right to stop her from working after all. There was probably another factor that had influenced their position; Yaz would flick through the channels on her tv and sometimes stumble across her face plastered on the news with headlines about gun crime in London being on the rise. It was almost too much, like the media were making her a figurehead for an issue that she really wasn’t a part of. She kept her curtains shut when she was in her apartment, in case someone found out where she lived but, so far, there had been no issues like that. She kept telling herself that this was what she had wanted - she had dreamt of having the focus on her, the praise being heaped on her, the country knowing her name. Then why was she scared? Because it could be taken away now she had it? She sometimes truly hated how her brain worked; it was only because of Jo and the late night phone calls they shared as they lay in their own respective beds that she was still remotely sane.

Of course, there had also been the panicked calls from home, her mum crying down the line when Yaz finally picked up when she returned home on the night it happened. Najia had wailed that she had almost lost her first born, telling Yaz that she should come back to Sheffield because it was safer there. When Yaz explained the extent of her injury, making it clear how minimal the damage was, Najia had somehow heard that she’d basically nearly lost her arm and they were looking into prosthetic possibilities. What took Yaz by surprise was how shaken her father was too. Normally so controlled in his emotions, Hakim had expressed how distressed they’d been when they’d first heard, especially when other family members had started to call them, wondering whether Yaz was dead or not. It was a complete over reaction, for sure, but Yaz couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for putting them through this. Thankfully, Sonya had appeared in the knick of time, congratulating Yaz on finally becoming interesting, although there had still been a worried look evident in her eyes. It brought home the fact that, now the adrenaline had worn off, how reckless her actions had been but also how lucky she was that she was still alive and able to tell the tale. Someone powerful was definitely looking out for her.

By the end of the week, Yaz had been able to persuade the people in charge that she was alright to go back in. However, the agreement had been that she would be bound to desk work for the foreseeable future, until they could confirm she was fully fit. It had been a compromise she hadn’t wanted to make but it was better than nothing - Yaz had been starting to grow stir crazy after being confined to her small apartment for days on end. There was only so much daytime television one could watch before losing their mental sharpness. It was with a great sense of vigour that she had gotten ready on the morning of her return, not knowing what to expect when she arrived. She certainly wasn’t expecting what she ended up getting. When she stepped foot inside the police department, already finding it weird that the two officers guarding the building’s front doors had smiled at her unlike their usual blank expressions at her presence, the people inside immediately got out of their chairs and gave her a standing ovation. She had never experienced anything like it - the only thing comparable was when your family sang happy birthday to you as you waited to blow out the candles on your cake. It was that feeling of awkwardness, of not knowing how to act or respond. Yaz simply stood there with a nervous smile on her face, for some reason giving them a small wave like she was a celebrity or the Queen. People she had hardly spoken to before were now coming up to her to shake her hand or offer to make her a cup of tea. One young officer, even lower ranked than she was, had wondered whether she needed her desk tidying. To say it was overwhelming was to put it mildly. It was completely surreal.

She was only saved from the invasive scrutiny when Pertwee and Delgado, always seemingly side by side, suddenly appeared next to her, the former gently grabbing hold of her shoulder and guiding her to his office. In contrast to the chaotic atmosphere in the office, the rather large room was pleasantly silent. Yaz had never stepped foot in here before and marvelled at how refined it looked, rich green walls set off by a red carpet that, unbeknownst to her, matched Pertwee’s dress sense all too well. He moved behind his desk, offering Yaz a chair, as Delgado stayed by the door, watching like he usually did with little show of emotion. Yaz was wondering why she had been dragged in here, thinking that she might be in trouble for reckless decision making on the job. She hadn’t considered that but now it was all that she could think about. Sergeant Pertwee seemed to pick up on the frantic air surrounding her, giving her a small reassuring smile that relieved some of her worries. Surely he wouldn’t be smiling if he was about to fire her. Unless he was playing a cruel trick.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, sliding over a tray with a cup of tea waiting for her. An assortment of biscuits sat by its side but she resisted the temptation, wanting to appear professional.

“I’m fine,” she answered a bit too quickly. His raised eyebrows and the snort coming from Delgado’s general direction told her that they weren’t buying her lies so she let out a tired sigh. “Grateful that you saved me from that mess in there.”

“Indeed,” Pertwee said with clear disdain. “You can have all the training in the world whilst you’re in the academy but they always neglect to prepare you for situations like that. That, I’m afraid, comes with experience.”

“You’ll have to put up with it for a while,” Delgado spoke up. “And, as tempting as it may be, don’t take their platitudes and compliments at face value. You’d be surprised to find out how many people are just focused on working up the ranks. It’s not the worst mindset to have but it resoundingly isn’t a healthy or sincere one.”

“I didn't expect to hear you speak so callously about your colleagues,” she found herself saying. The only response she got was a quick quiver of his eyebrow and the smallest of smirks.

“Be that as it may,” Pertwee intervened. “They’re congratulating you because you have done a marvellous job. I know a lot of officers who wouldn’t have been nearly as brave as you were if they’d been in your shoes.”

“Thank you but...it wasn’t really about being brave. I acted without thinking. I saw those three men and my instincts kicked in.”

“Modesty is always a good trait to have. It’ll serve you well so don’t lose it. The public likes a humble hero.” Pertwee took a sip from his own drink, drawing it out as he stared at her in an inscrutable fashion. “The reason you’re here is mainly because of those instincts you just mentioned. That night, you showed the perfect characteristics of a member of the Metropolitan Police, embodying everything we stand for. And the powers that be want to award those attributes and qualities.”

“How do you mean?” Yaz asked, confused about his cryptic way of talking.

“You’ll be getting a medal,” Delgado answered with a roll of his eyes. “They always like to give out medals for commendation. There’ll be a ceremony, people will clap, you’ll smile for photos. Etc etc.”

“But that’s not all. As I was saying, the department wants to encourage the promotion of people with your apparent skills so...they’re...promoting you. From next week you’ll be Sergeant Yasmin Khan.”

Yaz was at a loss for words. How were you supposed to react to such a massive bombshell, one that would change your life forever? “I’ll...be of the same rank as you two?”

“Thankfully not,” Delgado said. “We should thank you. With you moving up the ranks, so are we. I get to be an Inspector and my colleague will be Chief Inspector.”

“Can you tell how annoyed he is at that?” Pertwee asked with clear glee.

Yaz was pretty much speechless. She remembered saying thank you to the two officers before taking her leave, then found herself in the toilet cubicles, where she promptly started celebrating far too loudly. But she found that she couldn’t care less. She was just too happy.

**********

“Sergeant?” Jo shouted at her, nearly dropping the two mugs of tea she was carrying over to Yaz. The younger woman had come over to Jo’s apartment straight after work in the hope that she would be there, pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t starting her shift until later in the evening. With her host being rather curious about the unexpected arrival, Yaz had quickly unleashed a torrent of emotions at her. First, she had described the sense of optimism that had filled her as she’d woken up for the day, which had soon transformed into agitation at the level of scrutiny she had been put under by her colleagues. Jo had looked incredibly angry when she’d brought it up and Yaz had been worried that she was close to marching over to the station herself and having a  _ polite _ word with everybody. She was far too protective for her own good at times. The rage had brought a thirst on, prompting her to make the hot beverages she was now carrying. Sensing an opportunity, Yaz had shouted the exciting news whilst she was in the kitchen, wanting to see her reaction and it had been completely worth it. The smile that shone on her face was as bright as any Yaz had ever seen and she was sure it was the most gorgeous sight she’d laid eyes upon. A couple of weeks ago, she would never have believed you if you’d told her this would be her life - getting a promotion and then being able to break the news to a beautiful woman who also enjoyed her company. Maybe it was time to start putting the lottery on again, just in case she was going through a lucky streak.

Jo abandoned the mugs on a small wooden side table, jumping onto the sofa to sit next to Yaz, embracing her tightly before kissing her passionately on the lips. They lost themselves in the sensation for a few moments before breathing became a necessity, breaking apart but a promise in their eyes of how they would pick it up later. They were smiling goofily at one another and they were sure that, if anyone else was watching them from an outside perspective, they would likely think that they were mad. Completely bonkers. But also undeniably happy. 

“I couldn’t believe it myself when they told me,” Yaz admitted, past insecurities bubbling away at the surface. There was something happening inside of her that felt immensely strange, like she was changing. Was it how she was reacting to finally being accepted and appreciated by other people? She’d never experienced it before; in truth, it had been the one thing she’d hoped to earn in life - respect. “They kind of...just blurted it out and it took me a second to comprehend the meaning.”

“Will you get a new uniform?” Jo wondered, a sudden mischievous twinkle in her eyes as Yaz slowly figured out what she was insinuating.

She raised a playful eyebrow. “My, my...I didn't know you were into that sort of stuff. Interesting.  _ Very _ interesting. It’s a good job that you’re a doctor then too. It can work both ways.”

“Deal,” Jo said with a laugh, moving closer to the other woman. “I hope you know how proud I am of you. Even in the short space of time I’ve known you, I’ve been able to easily tell how much you’ve wanted this to happen. Although I don’t particularly appreciate the methods you used to make it happen.” She sent her a warning gaze. “I’ve already told you of my...disapproval of what happened that night. You could have given me a heart attack out of fright! Never again...please.”

“I’ll try not to,” Yaz promised although her small smile told Jo that she would do it again in a heartbeat if she had to. It was the main reason why she liked her so much, that untamed fire that drove her. Yaz sighed happily, reaching for her tea. She relished the way the hot steam felt on her skin, such a soothing presence. She was so engrossed by it and her thoughts that she failed to spot Jo smiling affectionately at her, making the most of the opportunity to look at her without being noticed. 

“Just think about what I could accomplish,” Yaz spoke up, breaking from her brief reverie. “All the good I could do with this new position. I know I’m still not one of the big hunchos but I’m getting there. And this apparent fame or whatever you want to call it...I could use it to my advantage. Spread my message, start a campaign for actual, physical reform that won’t just be forgotten after a few months of empty promises.”

“Are you sure that you want to bring in the media to that extent? You’d be under a different level of pressure. The entire public would be scrutinising every move you make in the finest detail. I know it would be useful but...I don’t think I could do it. All I’m saying is that...I don’t want you to make any decisions now that you’ll regret at a later date. I know I must sound so boring and negative but I hope you understand where I’m coming from.”

Yaz rested a hand on Jo’s arm to stop her from worrying too much. “Of course I do. You’re looking out for me, which I appreciate. More than you could possibly know. You’re right, I guess. Maybe I should leave it for a while, grow accustomed to my new role. But if I want to make the most of this moment, I will have to strike whilst the fire’s hot at some point.” She nodded her head as if she were convincing herself just as much as the woman sitting next to her. “My new role. Dear god...I’ll have to manage people. They’ll come to me for advice. What if I don’t know what to say? What if they don’t respect or like me? Surely I’m not equipped or experienced enough to be taking on this big a job. I should call Pertwee and tell him I gratefully decline.” She was hyperventilating now and it was only down to Jo’s quick intervention that she didn't descend into a deeper spiral. She was thankful that she had years of training at hand to deal with the issue.

“Woah, woah,” she cooed softly, bringing Yaz into a soft embrace, dragging a tender hand through her brown hair. “Where has this come from? You were so excited a minute ago. You have no reason to be worried. I’ve seen what you’re capable of and they wouldn’t have given you the promotion if they didn't think you had the ability to be brilliant at it. I know it’s difficult at times but you have to believe in yourself.” Jo gently lifted Yaz’s face so that they were looking at one another. “And you have to remember that you have me now to do the believing too. Double the belief. You can’t go wrong with that.”

“Are you sure?” Yaz asked in a small voice, wanting to believe what she said but experiences in the past had left her distrusting of such a positive attitude.

“For definite. You can trust me on this.” Jo was happy to see that her efforts appeared to be working as Yaz’s breathing started to settle into a steady rhythm. “Why don’t I go get you something to go with your tea? Biscuits? I’ve got loads in the cupboard somewhere. You stay right here and have a drink before it goes cold. There are some dark things in the universe but none that are worse than a freezing cup of tea. I won’t be a minute.”

Jo was up and gone in a flash, moving back towards the kitchen, leaving Yaz on her own. She felt slightly embarrassed about that small episode, fearing that Jo would see her in a different kind of light now. What if she just saw her as a patient? Someone to look after? The first time they’d properly met, during the meal at the O’Brien’s house, it had ended with her collapsing on the table and being rushed to the hospital. Was this what it had been all along? Jo doing this out of a sense of duty? A duty of care? It made her feel slightly sick and queasy as she began to over analyse every interaction they’d had, looking for miniscule clues that would prove her right. The only consolation was that she knew her brain enjoyed making up these dark scenarios to mess with her, especially when she was happy. At least it was an indicator that she was currently going through a good period in her life, in a sort of sick and twisted way.

Jo returned with a packet of biscuits, unaware of the inner turmoil going on inside Yaz’s head. “Go on then, you can have first pick. Let me tell you, I don’t allow many people that luxury so consider yourself  _ very _ lucky.”

Yaz shot her a half-hearted smile before picking up the unopened packet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite understand, she stared at her in confusion. There was something about it that was making her mind scream. Was there something she was meant to recognise? All it was was a packet of custard creams, wrapped in a deep blue cover, small rainbows around the corners. She realised her hand was shaking and she couldn’t stop it. Tears were forming in her eyes, scaring her because there was no obvious reason for it to happen. She was vaguely aware of Jo asking her if everything was okay but all she focused on was what was in her hands.  _ Custard creams _ . She knew someone very important to her that adored those biscuits but who? How could she forget this person? Yaz knew that they were central to her life but she was unable to come up with any specifics.  _ Rainbows _ . Someone constantly wore a rainbow on some form of clothing. A skirt? A scarf? Maybe a top, she didn't know. But her brain was forcing her to remember things that weren’t there, her head pounding as it tacked the paradox.  _ Blue _ . There was something blue that she loved and cherished. The gateway to every adventure she’d ever had. The blue box, so small yet so incomprehensibly large. The Tardis.  _ Tardis _ . How on Earth did she know that word?

**********

John was sitting in his office, the curtains drawn, as he stared at his computer screen, the same thing he’d been doing for at least half an hour now. He scratched at his chin as he continued to scroll down, scrutinising the webpage with a cynical eye. Something had to be wrong with it. It was simply impossible for a house to exist so perfectly, taken from Clara’s childhood. The doll house that had been supersized and plonked right in the middle of London with no one doing as much as batting an eyelid. Was he the only one who had noticed? Was he going mad? Or, at least, madder than usual? Did Clara remember the toy she used to play with or had she found this ideal home through sheer chance and the strength of her subconscious? Was he just making a gigantic leap and it was a strange coincidence? They were all questions that were adding to his increasing levels of grumpiness. He could tell that even some of his students had picked up on his sourness and unusual short temper whenever someone had a theory that he thought was pointless. John didn't want to particularly take it out on the people he was meant to be teaching and he certainly didn't want it to continue.

The way he had decided to assuage his fears was to constantly find out as many details about the house as was seemingly possible, which wasn’t the healthiest of obsessions to have. He’d been looking at the estate agents’ website that was selling the house, a company called Jones and Toby. There was a picture of the owner on the welcome menu and he instantly didn't trust the man in the slightest, although he didn't have a rational explanation for such a strong resentment to have taken over. His face was smarmy, slicked back hair too perfect and neat. And the suit was outrageous and flamboyant, speaking of too much wealth at his disposal. But the house appeared to be perfectly normal, apart from its unique appearance. There were even quotes from former owners that said how lovely a place it was and how anyone would be lucky to live there. Yet John just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something and that was the main cause of him being so irritable.

His students weren’t the only ones who were suffering because of his, frankly, insane behaviour. From the moment he had found the photo, he hadn’t been able to look Clara properly in the eyes. Surely she had nothing to do with it so why was he taking it out on her? Again, rationality had nothing to do with his recent actions. To her credit, she had picked up on the shift in his demeanour straight away, highlighting how she had already grown to know him rather well. Too well? What if she was a part of this somehow? John had never believed in aliens before but this was definitely too freaky for his liking and extraterrestrial intervention was the obvious next step when his own world couldn’t give him any suitable explanations. Clara, unsure as to whether she had done something to upset him, had asked immediately whether there was something wrong with him. Not wanting to upset her, since he really did like her and didn't want to lose their new relationship (it was the best thing to happen to him in years), and knowing that she just wouldn’t understand if he explained his concerns, John had replied that he had fallen under the weather, apologising profusely as he quickly left her apartment. She’d sent him a few text messages to check up on him, which he’d replied to promptly but curtly. He hated himself for how he was behaving but his mind wouldn’t rest until he got his answers. 

The darkness of his room was shattered as Sarah Jane stepped inside, looking around in a perplexed fashion as she tried to understand the environment he was working in. She turned the lights on, watching him almost cower away from the brightness. She was on high alert, worried that he’d been through something bad. She had never seen him act so peculiarly before and she had known him for a very long time. In the morning, John had been too distracted to even notice that she had greeted him like she always did, offering to grab him a hot drink from the canteen to wake him up. He’d continued unperturbed into his office, staring at his phone as he looked at something she couldn’t see, slamming the door shut with an unnecessarily loud bang.

Sarah Jane looked at him cautiously, noticing the dark bags under his eyes, which were red enough as it was, as he still perused the computer screen. She was honestly fed up with the way he was acting, wanting to put an end to it. “What on Earth is wrong with you?” she almost shouted. She never normally got angry with him, which made her raised voice even more shocking. This time, he did tear his gaze away from the device, looking at her guiltily. “How long have you been holed up in here? It must be several hours. Why did you have the lights off? The blinds closed? Well?”

He didn't have an appropriate answer, making him look even more foolish than he felt. “...it was difficult to look at the screen with the sunlight pouring into the room. It made it hard to concentrate.”

“And what did you have to concentrate on so hard? Even you don’t normally work so diligently so it won’t be that.”

“I just had...stuff to deal with. You know how it can be. You just get busy, things pile up. I wanted to get it all done. Is that a crime now in this place?” John was attempting to go on the offensive, a route he knew wouldn’t end up being successful but it was worth a try when he had no chance of winning the argument.

Sarah Jane laughed bitterly, knowing that he was lying from the look on his face. “It should be when you’re sabotaging the one good relationship you’ve ever formed with a woman.”

“Does that include you?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here, not you. And you know what I’m talking about so don’t change the subject. I thought you were happy with Clara! You were smiling and laughing, being generous with grades and courteous with other staff members. Did something happen between you two? Something wrong?”

“Of course not!” he sputtered unconvincingly. “We’re perfectly fine. More than fine, in fact! I’d say that everything is even better than I’d hoped. We’re getting along, we enjoy one another’s company, we can talk about things, both important and unimportant. I’m incredibly lucky to have found her and you know I mean that because I would never willingly mention anything about my emotions to you.”

She was leaning on his desk, peering at him with a calculating gaze. “I really want to believe you, I hope you understand that. But, if that’s all true, why did she come to me earlier today, practically in tears, asking if she had done something to upset you?”

John’s face went pale and his hands began to shake. He put his head in his hands, moaning in anguish. What had he done? Could he face her again after hurting her so callously? She deserved so much better than he could give her. Was his fixation on the house just a way of him ending things before they became too serious, so that he wouldn’t be hurt as much when she eventually left him for someone better? If so, that would definitely make him a therapist’s dream. They’d write books about him and his unbelievably self-destructive mindset.

“Did she actually come and see you?” he risked asking, praying that it was just a lie to make him talk. He wouldn’t even be angry at his friend, he would be so relieved that he hadn’t caused Clara that level of pain.

“She did.” Sarah’s face was kinder now as she appreciated that he hadn’t wanted to hurt her in any way. “She said that she didn't know anyone else to ask. She wanted you to know that she’s sorry if she upset you but even more confused than that.”

“She shouldn’t be the one apologising!” he exclaimed, hitting his computer in anger, a swelling of self-loathing eating away at him. “I’m the one who caused this! I obviously got scared of how things were progressing so quickly and I retreated. Because I’m a fool and a massive idiot.”  _ An idiot. With a box and a screwdriver. Just passing through, helping out. Learning. _ Now where had that come from? It was his own voice but he’d never said those things. Yet he could almost remember that speech. Maybe he needed to have a long sleep.

Sarah Jane, unaware of the extent of his inner turmoil, gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m not the one who you should be telling that, am I?”

“You’re right,” John agreed tiredly. He gazed at her curiously. “Sarah...do you ever get the feeling that you’re missing something? Something really important that you shouldn’t be able to live without?”

“I’ve...never really given it much thought to be honest. Although Luke has been talking like that recently. He got a dog and he claimed life had been empty without it. Is that the sort of thing you’re talking about.”

“Not really,” he sighed dejectedly. “What’s the dog called?”

“Oh, something stupid. I think he said...K9. That was it. It’s a pun. Not a very clever one.” She didn't pick up on how his expression changed at the mention of the name.

His head was suddenly overwhelmed with strange images. A metal dog, rolling along by his side. Shouts of ‘affirmative’ and ‘yes, master’. A laser gun its nose, taking out the Krillitane, saying goodbye to it that day and other days too, on Gallifrey. Gallifrey? What was that? Was it a place in Ireland that he’d forgotten he’d been to. His eyes caught a glance at the computer screen again and he glared at the image of the smug man. John had no idea why but he knew that he needed to talk to him.


	15. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Twelfth Doctor faces off against the Dream Lord as Ryan and Graham try to wrap their heads around the situation

They both woke up at the same time, groggily getting up from the floor, using the console as leverage to lift themselves. It seemed like their bones were lead weights, wanting to stay on the floor where it was comfier, but they persevered nonetheless. The room was darker than last time, which immediately worried the Doctor and Clara, who shared a nervous look as they grew accustomed to this reality.  _ The only reality _ , Clara tried to remind herself, although it was becoming more difficult the longer they stayed there. Every waking second she spent as that woman, herself, the more it felt like it was actually happening and she wasn’t prepared to tell the Doctor that she was okay if that was the case. She could already picture his reaction, how he would probably shout at her for being lured into the trap, then he’d apologise for raising his voice but the disappointment would still be there in his eyes, clear as day to see. He just didn't understand human emotions, despite trying his best to get more acquainted with them (the flash cards she had made for him for tricky social situations was testament enough to that). The Doctor was unable to comprehend how most humans dreamt of having a life like the one they were going through, the normality, the security, the comfort. The hope of success and love was enough for them, when he was always looking for more than that. What surprised Clara was that she had felt she was on the same lines as him, pursuing adventure at every turn, hopping between excitement and anticipation. Yet she was enjoying the other nearly as much...in some regards, even more so. Why was that?

She was curious as to how long they had been sleeping there since it had been weeks, maybe months, in the other reality. Was time running concurrently or at different speeds? The Doctor would know, although the dark look on his face told her that he was struggling just as much as she was. The most difficult thing now was that, everytime she looked at the Time Lord, she got flashes of the wonderful John Smith, holding her hand as they walked down the street, laughing at her lame jokes without a proper care in the world...kissing her with abandon, not caring if anyone saw. Clara knew that she would never get that with the man she was standing next to, even if she had kidded herself at one time or another that it was remotely possible. Begrudgingly, she had come to accept that price for all the other marvellous things he did for her. He may not have been intimate but he showed how much he cared through showing her the universe in all of its sparkling marvel (even when it usually reared its ugly head when they went  _ anywhere _ ). Was she okay with that? Of course she was. She had thought about leaving him many times when things got too much for her. Danny Pink had almost driven an insurmountable divide between them, but they had bridged that gip eventually, leaving them closer than ever. And she had told the Doctor to show her the stars, which he’d done eagerly, introducing her to more than just them. Without her truly realising, that crazy haired man with the blue box had become her life. There was nothing back home apart from work and, as much as she loved it, that was nowhere near comparable. 

Clara held a hand up to her forehead in discomfort, not enjoying the number of thoughts floating through her head. Especially because they were so at odds with one another. They were tugging her in different directions and, if she wasn’t too careful, they would end up tearing her apart. At least then she would be able to rest without having to decide between the two men, the same men yet so very different. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to run away, she wanted to stay and fight. What was the best choice? The Doctor in the time machine, so extraordinary yet fleeting, a temporary, fragile life? Or John Smith, so normal and long-lasting? Her hands were practically shaking underneath the pressure of it all and, before she realised what was happening, she felt something around them. A hand. The Doctor’s hand. He had picked up on her concern, despite everything she had claimed about him not being able to do so, and had decided to comfort her, doing so in the only fashion he could think of. He held her delicate hand in his, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles in a tender fashion.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered gently with a smile, although it didn't seem as sure as his words. “You know me. I always get us out of these scrapes, don’t I?” 

What he wasn’t telling her was how he didn't see this as any normal  _ scrape _ . The Doctor was struggling to stay strong for, even if he knew that she had more strength than anyone he’d ever known. It was difficult to look her in the eye because, every time he did so, his lips were torturously reminded of the ghost of her touch. In that world, he was able to spend time with her doing absolutely nothing, which he was always finding an excuse for in between adventures in the Tardis. He knew that he would never stop running completely but was it so bad if he took a break? The universe could deal without him for the time being. There were plenty of other people who went around trying to save others so why was it always down to him? Surprising himself, the Doctor wanted Clara more than anything else and he knew it was selfish but, even before entering that dream state, he had grown to know it was true. He’d never said anything before out of cowardice, fearing what she would say, how she would react. She would leave and his heart would be broken. That’s why he never opened up. He was sick of losing people.  _ Coward...any day. _

__ “What’s wrong with the Tardis?” she asked him, looking up at the gloomy console, the time rotor not as vibrant as it normally was. She felt sad as stared at it, as if she was losing a close friend. “I didn't think anything else could go wrong but here we are.”

“It’s like...the energy is being sapped from her. I don’t think she can last much longer if this continues and then...we’d be stuck here forever. No way of calling for help, no way of getting anywhere. We’re in an old part of space - no one in their right mind would come anywhere near these parts. Stuck in both worlds.”

“But how’s that possible? The Tardis wouldn’t just lose energy all of a sudden! Surely there are...safeguards or something preventing that.” Although, knowing him, he probably didn't understand the definition of that word.

“We’ve been unconscious for an unknown period of time. Anything could have happened.” A look of realisation dawned on his face and he let out a guttural growl, hitting himself in the face for being so stupid and clueless. “He basically told us why he’s doing this. The two Tardises.” He was nervously pacing now as the full picture came into view in his head. “Untold amounts of dimensional power tucked away, all neatly tied with a big blue bow. The Dream Lord has never had control over actual reality so, to take full form, he’s harnessing the power of the Tardises, syphoning it off.” The Doctor gave Clara a worried look as he began to comprehend how the situation was even worse than he’d first thought. “The longer we stay in that reality, or in this loop we’re in, the more powerful he’ll get. The more time we spend there, the longer he can keep us there without bringing us back here to...recharge, in a sense. Soon enough, he’ll have enough power to keep us trapped in there forever.”

“But why does he want that? Did you ever do anything to anger him?”

The Doctor chuckled mirthlessly. “When haven’t I upset someone and him more than most. With us out of the way, think of the damage that could cause to the universe, how many people would go unchecked. As for the others...the others.” He slammed his fist against the console and the Tardis let out a pitiful noise. “Keep me trapped here and I never get to that future point. Huge paradox, lots of temporal energy escaping from this point. It’d be a feast.”

“So what do we do?” Clara didn't like his grave expression. “Can we do anything?”

“Well, we somehow need to contact the other Tardis but the power levels are so low that it’s going to be even more difficult than it should be. Then we have to make a choice.”

“This world...or the other,” she summarised neatly, matching his look now.

“Exactly,” he said, biting on the end of his thumb.

“Then I think it’s time we discuss what’s been happening in that reality. As in...us. We were certainly growing...closer in there so what does that mean for...the proper versions of ourselves?” She was nervous about bringing this up but she knew she had to.

“Clara…” the Doctor sighed. “Now is not the time to be having deep conversations about our relationship.”

“It’s exactly the only time,” she argued strongly. “And it might be the only time we get.”

“There’s no point in discussing it because we can’t give into those temptations. It’s exactly what he wants.”

“In the other reality, yes. But here...if you feel that way...then there’s no reason to go back. That’s how we defeat him because he underestimated us. Come on, Doctor...enough has been left unspoken for too long.”

He waved his hands up in the air. “What do you want me to say? That I’m jealous of that other guy because he gets to kiss you? Because he’s able to put into words how he feels about you because he’s not scared about the ramifications? Or should I say that I thought it would be impossible for me to fall in love with you all over again but I obviously found a way to do so? Maybe I’ll explain how you’ve had such a great impact on my life that the thought of ever losing you makes me want to shout out in righteous anger! What do you say about that, hmm?”

His chest was heaving as he finished his short tirade, laying it all out to bare. He watched her expression minutely, growing concerned when she didn't react in the slightest. The Doctor had expected anger, maybe sadness...he’d hoped for joy or something along those lines. Not nothing. But then his concern grew as she began to fall to the floor, the Dream Lord appearing behind her, watching her as she slumped, asleep. The Doctor, cushioning her fall, looked up from his crouching position to see the other man smirking.

“I do apologise. I know how long you’ve been meaning to say all of that stuff but don’t worry, she definitely heard it. It just wasn’t the right  _ time _ , which you’ll understand being a lord of it and everything.” He grinned wolfishly. “I simply thought, since she had to be on her the last time, it was well overdue that we had a private chat too.”

**********

Graham and Ryan sat side by side, united in silence, as they stared at the unconscious bodies of the Doctor and Yaz, lying prone on the floor of the Tardis. This was probably the most frightened either of them had been during their travels in the blue box, especially since it seemed like they didn't have the Doctor to depend upon this time. Sure, they had grown in the ability to handle certain situations, doing things that neither of them would have ever dreamed about...but that didn't include being trapped inside a time machine disguised as an old police telephone box, whilst it aimlessly floated through space. They were worried that that disturbing man would appear at any second, returning to taunt them and mess with their heads further. The issue was that there hadn’t been enough time for the Doctor to explain what was going on, or do so in a fashion that they could reasonably understand. They could barely fathom how it was possible to live two separate, completely different lives but they were doing so. Graham could still remember dancing with Grace and speaking to people as they came to their little cafe.  _ Real _ people who had hopes and dreams and everything that made someone a human in his eyes. How was that possible? And it all seemed so vivid that, if he was to be careless, he might start thinking that it had actually happened in his normal life.  _ Normal. _ Was anything he had done in the past two years normal? That was what was making this so hard for them, the fact that reality had been distorted so much that they no longer knew what to believe. Any sane person would argue that where they were right now was more absurd than the dreams they were having.

Most of all, right now, they were worried about their two friends. Graham had taken off his jumper to cushion Yaz’s head whilst she slumbered, Ryan finding a cushion stored away deep inside a cupboard somewhere in the Tardis, a room he would struggle to remember how to get to, so that the Doctor had an element of comfort. It was all they could do for them, which infuriated them the most. The pair wondered what they were going through, hoping that it was just as pleasant as their imaginations. That was the crux of the matter, they’d figured out early on. The more pleasant you thought it was, the more you would want to stay there. Regardless of knowing that fact, it was difficult not to be lured into the trap. Graham had Grace, which he had once thought he would trade the world for just to have another five minutes in her company. Ryan had a purpose and someone in Bella who seemed to respect him, regardless of the shortcomings that plagued his self confidence. However, looking at the womens’ bodies, their chests slowly rising to reassure them that they were still alive, it brought home the fact that, no matter how good it felt, it was dangerous and dark and twisted. Yaz had grown to be like a sister to Ryan, always there to put a smile on his face when he needed it, and like a granddaughter to Graham, someone who wanted to listen to his stories and actually believed he wasn’t boring. Yet there she was...being played with, tortured. As for the Doctor...how could you begin to describe their relationship and the feelings they had for the Time Lord? The woman who had stormed into their lives (or rather, fallen) and changed them forever. They’d always seen her as untouchable, infallible, albeit a little goofy and clumsy at times. They’d believed nothing could stop her but this power was getting the better of her.

He knew it wasn’t rational but Ryan felt anger bubbling away in his chest. Angry at the Dream Lord for doing this but also angry at the Doctor for putting them in this situation. He knew it wasn’t her fault but it was just another example of how risky their lives had become. She had expressly warned them about that, he understood that, but, for some reason, he had never taken her words seriously. And it wasn’t just the danger they were in; it was also how much they had changed. How long had it been since he’d seen Tibo? How different would he appear to him when they next met up? Again, the Doctor had told them it would happen, that they would never be the same people. But how long had they been inside the Tardis during this dilemma alone? Weeks? Months? His head was throbbing as it tried to cope with two sets of memories and surely that would impact who he was. Maybe he would start to forget things, important moments from his actual life. Would he then not remember people too? His friends, his family? Was he about to lose everything he had built up over the short time he’d been on the Earth? Why should he go back home if he didn't fit in anymore? Wouldn’t it be better if he remained in the other world, where there was no chance of him changing so much? Where he knew he would always be Ryan Sinclair?

“Do you know why we’ve woken up and they haven’t?” Ryan asked his grandad in the hope of getting some form of explanation.

Graham just laughed derisively. “Do I look like the sort of person who could remotely understand this situation we’re in? Even the Doc couldn’t properly wrap her head around it, which is the thing that’s worrying me the most.”

“Yeah,” Ryan sighed, bowing his head. “That’s what I thought.” He didn't react as Graham put an arm around his shoulder, trying to comfort him. It wasn’t working but it was a nice gesture nonetheless. “I met a girl. In there. In the other world.” He didn't like how Graham’s expression turned dark as he considered the implications. “She was nice. You would have liked her.”

“I’m sorry Ryan but I need you to stop talking like that,” the old man warned, pointing a finger as he shifted a bit away to face him properly.

“Talking like what?” came the defensive reply, Ryan’s face consumed by a deep frown.

“Like this girl is real when she ain’t! She’s just a figment of your imagination, used by this man to make you want to stay in there. Do you understand that?”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly the expert on the topic? What if she is real? Maybe she’s stuck in there just like us. Maybe everyone in that world is a prisoner. Are we supposed to just abandon them without a second thought? Is that what the Doctor has taught us?”

“The Doc has taught us to think rationally, even in mind-boggling scenarios like this one. And you’re not thinking straight right now. This is where we belong, remember that. I won’t have any talk on the matter when you’re sounding like you want to...stay there.”

Ryan’s laugh was bitter as he shook his head. “You’re such a hypocrite.” He paused as Graham gave him a questioning look, making Ryan roll his eyes. “Are you telling me that you don’t want to stay there too? You have nan in there, you’re happy, we still get to live together. Yaz was with us too, and the Doctor. They seemed just as happy. We wouldn’t lose anything choosing that life so why does it have to be such a bad decision?”

“Stop it.”

“Nan’s death hurt both of us but, in that reality, we never had to go through that pain. We wouldn’t have to constantly live with that moment weighing down on our hearts. The Dream Lord said he wanted us to be happy and maybe that’s just it. Not everything has to be evil. The Doctor could have got this one wrong.”

“I said stop it!” Graham shouted as he jumped up, walking away from the younger man. He never raised his voice at Ryan, which had been the thing that had surprised him. He ran his hand over his face, wiping away a few of the tears that were falling onto his cheeks. “Not another word about it. I won’t disrespect your nan’s memory like that and I won’t replace her.”

“We’re going to have to have this conversation at some point, you do know that, right?” Ryan pointed out as he stood up too.

The look that Graham gave him was still dark and annoyed. “We’re not at that point yet. The Doc will fix this, mark my words. And then we’ll be able to move on from this and forget that it ever happened.”

“Maybe I don’t want to forget it,” Ryan muttered.

Graham stared at him, afraid that he was being truthful, angry that he could even say such a thing, understanding of what he was going through. It was too many emotions to handle at once. “Then we’re in even bigger trouble than I thought.”

There was a gasp from the floor, disrupting them from their argument. Yaz bolted upright, the two men racing to be by her side, Graham crouching down to hold her arm. “Tardis,” she shouted hoarsely, prompting the other two to share a confused look. Nothing made sense anymore so they shouldn’t have been so perturbed. “Why...why did I say that?”

There was a cough next to her. “Implanted...memory...stores.” The Doctor was coming to as well, Ryan assisting her. She was slower than usual in her answer but they could forgive her that one grievance. “Your subconscious self...fighting against the barriers...of the other reality.”

“In English please?” Graham wearily asked, feeling a migraine coming on.

The Doctor was sitting upright, fighting against Ryan to try and stand up like a petulant toddler. “The other Yaz was starting to experience the memories of this Yaz. It was too much to handle for her, which is why she woke up. And allowed me to come through too. It just goes to show how strong our Yaz is that she was able to fight through it all.” She sent a tender look to the woman next to her before memories came flooding back of what they’d done in the other reality. How close they’d grown, what they’d done together. Yet they continued to share that look and Yaz hoped it spoke of progress being made. Eventually, the Doctor had enough strength to stand up unassisted, although she still had to lean on the Tardis for support. “The thing is, that’s how you beat him. You have to make the choice between the two worlds. Which will inevitably involve convincing your other self that this is the real world, a rather difficult proposition.” She was about to go into full lecture mode when the console started to emit a tiny beep, a red dot appearing on the screen. It was the only sign of life coming from the time machine, immediately getting their attention.

“What’s that?” Graham asked the obvious question. “Is it a good or bad thing?”

The Doctor stared at it for a moment before her mouth fell open, giving them an unreadable look. “It’s the other Tardis.”

**********

The Doctor had unwillingly moved away from Clara’s body, knowing that he could do nothing for her at the moment. Before he’d left her, making sure that she was comfortable (a difficult task to do when she was unconscious and couldn’t instruct him like she normally did), he’d stroked her face tenderly, a rare moment of weakness he was willing to show simply because he knew she wouldn’t see it. That made it easier, a harmless way of showing his affection. He said harmless...the only reason she was in this mess was because of him. Always getting into trouble, taking stupid risks...all because he did the same. Was this the universe’s way of telling him that, if he didn't let go soon, he would lose her forever? The pain of making her angry, no matter how long that lasted, was inconsequential to the heartbreak he’d have to endure if something bad were to happen to her. The other reality was so brilliant in that respect, in that  _ John _ didn't have to make these considerations, didn't have to think about any fatal ramifications of his choices. The Doctor did and he was jealous of how simple life was back there. He guessed that was the lure, the honey in the pot, the cheese in the trap. Because how could he manage going from seeing her carefree smile to the passive expression that was now on her face? A part of him hoped that, somehow, Clara had been able to sense his touch, an encouragement that she would get through this. 

The Dream Lord had watched this all happen with a twisted sense of glee. From the look on the Doctor’s face, it was clear that he was beginning to question why he had to put up with the darkness in this universe. From his words to his companion just before his... _ intervention _ ...it was even clearer that he wanted a life with her, something the old Time Lord could never have. Time was a cruel and wicked mistress for most people, but even more so for him. He would almost say that he felt sorry for the other man, the same man, but he wasn’t here to waste time on pointless conceptions such as sympathy and pity. Oh, and the girl was even more smitten with him in both realities. It couldn’t have been going any better for him. This incarnation was weaker than the previous one he had tried to mess with; the fact that he tried to close himself off meant that, when he opened up to someone, which he had done with his precious Clara Oswald, he was bound to face a greater sense of hurt. Why couldn’t they appreciate that the world he had created was a kindness, fixing mistakes and giving them opportunities they would never normally have? They were so distrusting and that said more about them than it did him.

“She looks so peaceful when she sleeps, don’t you think?” he asked, knowing he’d struck a nerve from the way the Doctor’s face severely darkened. “Of course, I’m sure you’ve never noticed such a thing before because you’re above such...human tendencies.” There was still no reaction coming from his opponent, which he didn't really mind. He enjoyed being able to talk uninterrupted. “Or, after so long travelling with them, have you begun to take on their characteristics. You’ve practically thrown yourself into that other world, so domesticated.” He glanced down at Clara again, instinctively sensing that the Doctor was doing the same. “She’s proud of you, you know. That you’re obviously so willing to embrace that lifestyle. It gives her a sense of hope that she hasn’t felt for a very long time. I presume that makes you all warm and fuzzy on the inside.” The Dream Lord sneered as he said that to accentuate his insinuations. How the Doctor had been made feeble and fragile by his companions, especially this one. “What do you think she’s dreaming of right now? You? Oh, you’d like that. I can see it on your face.” He pointed at the other man with a playful grin. Apart from the coming together of his two bushy eyebrows, there was still no sign that he was actually listening to his ramblings. The Dream Lord put on a playful frown, mocking the Doctor as he crossed his arms. “You’re not very talkative today. Is that a conscious decision or a defense mechanism? If you open your mouth again, are you worried that you’ll pour your heart and soul out to like you were doing just then?”

The Doctor’s nostrils flared dangerously but he still refused to speak. The phantom, for that was what the Dream Lord truly was, stepped closer. He didn't seem to mind that he was much smaller in comparison, invading his personal space. “How long have you kept those emotions hidden from her? How long have they been eating away at you? You were bound to get caught out eventually but I think you should be thanking me for giving you that little extra...push. I don’t want a prize or money or anything like that. I just want you to utter those two wonderful words.  _ Thank you _ . I’ve waited a lifetime, or maybe a few, to hear you say that to me.”

“What you actually want is the power my Tardis holds,” the Doctor argued, hoping to distract him from the previous conversation. He didn't like the direction it was taking. 

“So he does speak!” the Dream Lord exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee as he strolled away. “And yes, of course I want that but that’s just a secondary thought, an added bonus. I’m actually surprised that you only just figured it out. Maybe your mind is going soft in your old age. Or is it possible that you’re too busy thinking about Clara? Care to answer?”

“No,” came the response through gritted teeth. The Doctor wanted to keep as much space between him and that smug face, even though he knew the Dream Lord could appear anywhere he wanted in a flash, so he stepped towards the console. He could feel the energy sapping from it, a faint cry for help that no one could answer, not even him. He didn't even have any idea as to how the other man was doing this. There was no machine, no mechanism, nothing. It didn't make sense. “I’ll ask you a question instead. Once you’ve succeeded, what do you plan on doing next? Once you’ve earned yourself a physical form? Will you retire? Go on holiday? What do ghosts and figments of people’s imagination do for fun?”

“I will be able to live in peace. You don’t understand how tiresome it becomes, hearing other people’s dreams incessantly. Always hoping for more than they already have. Never happy with what life has given them. I’ll grant them their wish. Consider yourself a test subject, Doctor. I’ll be able to change the universe on a whim, shaping it so  _ everyone _ gets what they want. I’d be supreme ruler and no one would even know it or, more importantly, question it.”

The Doctor looked flabbergasted at the preposterous nature of his plan. “But...the paradoxes that would create. One person may want something that goes against someone else’s wishes. How would you make that happen? The sheer amount of power you would need is incomprehensible and it certainly doesn’t exist in a billion Tardises, let alone two!”

“You’re missing the obvious point, as always.” The Dream Lord shook his head, disdain evident in his demeanour for how slow the Time Lord was being. “You’re bound by laws and rules which simply don’t exist for me. Just think about what possibilities are out there in your dreams. You can be taller, stronger, more powerful, richer. You can eat all you want and never get fat. Become a celebrity that is adored across the universe. You can find your one true love and never lose her. Everything is up for grabs in dreams, Doctor, it just takes someone like me to show people that’s the case. I’m fulfilling their potential. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“You’ll come to find that reality isn’t as malleable as whatever world you’ve been living in. No matter how powerful you think you are, it’s nowhere near enough and I’d encourage you to give up whilst you still have some dignity left.”

“And why should we have to put up with this reality. You’ve said it yourself so many times, how sick you are of losing people.” He peered curiously at the Doctor, tilting his head slightly. “How many people is it now, Doctor? It must be in the hundreds by now, the number of lives you’ve ruined. Have you not noticed the ghosts from your past that still live on in  _ your _ reality. That heartache you feel but never show would be gone forever in an instant. Just think, Rose Tyler would never have been left abandoned because of your carelessness. Donna Noble would never have forgotten how great a woman she could be. Poor little Adric would never have died and Jamie would still know who you are. You could live in a world where Martha Jones doesn’t look at you in distaste and sorrow for the torment you put her and her family through. Your best friend...they would never choose to take a different path to you, they never would have gone so dark. Everything you have ever wanted is within my grasp so don’t insult me by questioning my power. All you have to do is make the only logical choice.  _ John Smith _ is not burdened by the weight on your shoulders, is not damaged by the two broken hearts beating in your chest, and he never will be.”

“You just can’t see the error in your argument can you?” the Doctor said, fighting against an onslaught of memories, past faces that he had let down. “Everything I have been through has made me who I am today. Every person I have lost is a promise I’ve made to myself, to make sure someone else doesn’t meet that fate. Sure, I won’t succeed all the time but I can console myself in the fact that I try. Clara told me that was what made me a good man so why would I trade that away for empty bliss?”

“You’re a fool.”

“I’d choose to be nothing else,” the Doctor swore, flicking a switch on the console that he had been fiddling with, unbeknownst to the Dream Lord. It was time to find the other Tardis and the other Doctor. 


	16. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Twelfth and Thirteenth Doctors meet in an attempt to escape the trap the Dream Lord has them in

The Dream Lord knew instantly that something was wrong, something wasn’t going according to  _ his _ plan. The faint high-pitched hum coming from the Tardis was a dead giveaway, as was the satisfied look on the Doctor’s face. But he could also feel something wrong within himself, as his balance of power was being shifted. He glitched out of phase, disappearing for a second before appearing again, his expression darkening every time it happened. He attempted to get a control over it, focusing and concentrating on nothing else but nothing he tried was working. To him, it felt like the Tardis itself was resisting his presence, pushing him away with all of its might. But that was simply impossible. There was hardly any power left in the blasted ship; it should have been no more than some scrap metal and burnt wooden panels.

“What have...you done?” he managed to ask whilst he appeared soldily for a sustained period of time. The Dream Lord glared at the Doctor and the little flashing light on a control panel intermittently, trying to figure out what nonsense the Time Lord was up to. How was it difficult for him to figure out the way his brain worked, what his pointless intentions were? It should have been the easiest task with how intertwined they were and yet...all he could see was a dark cloud, obscuring his sight into the Doctor’s head. He would say that he was getting a headache but that was simply impossible for him. Wasn’t it?

The Doctor was taking a certain level of joy out of watching the Dream Lord struggle against the neat trick he was playing on him. For someone so smug, it was nice to see him get a modicum of comeuppance, even if it still wasn’t enough for the sick games he’d been wrapping around them. The Doctor didn't smile though. Not once, not even a flicker of a grin. Maybe if Clara had been with him there, holding onto his arm as she watched in fascination, then he would have allowed himself to appreciate his cunning skill. But, whilst she was still unconscious and as far away from him as she possibly could be whilst only being six feet from his person, he reminded himself that he couldn’t enjoy this as much as he wanted to. It was a means to an end, a hopeful punt that he prayed would speed up Clara’s return to him. He really was in trouble if that was his mindset nowadays, completely driven by the need to be around her. What if she really did leave him one day, which was almost as certain an event as any? The universe wouldn’t survive.

“Oh, I haven’t done anything remotely interesting,” the Doctor quipped. “Nothing that you should worry about. I just flicked a couple of switches and sent out a teeny tiny distress signal to the only other ship within range. I guess that would have to be the other, future Tardis, which is a stroke of rather good luck for myself. Maybe not so for you but I’m not really in the charitable mood.”

“That shouldn’t be possible!” the Dream Lord cried, reaching for him or the console, whichever he could use to anchor himself back to this realm. They were both infuriatingly out of reach though. “The power that would be involved may be attainable if we were in normal circumstances but we aren’t in any normal circumstances! How have you done this, Doctor?”

“It’s infuriating when a plan gets scuppered by a minor hiccup, isn’t it?” came the taunting response. “You win some, you lose some. I’ve learnt that better than most.”

“My plans haven’t failed. Your Clara Oswald is still inside my reality, you can’t change that. Whatever you’re doing right now, you’re only putting her life in jeopardy. I thought you were a better man than that, Doctor. I thought you were above such pitiful risks. No wonder you’re always running. Running from the shadows of your past choices. Yes, this is just another in a very long line of sacrifices made in the name of the greater good. I feel ashamed for you and I haven’t felt anything my entire existence.”

“You really do underestimate me despite having a decent knowledge of who I am. You can give someone all the resources, all the understanding they need to know something but they’ll still always be an idiot. I would never harm Clara, not in any way. I made a promise to her and it’s one I intend to keep. I’ve failed too many people to add her name to the list too.” The Doctor checked the console one last time to make sure everything was working as he’d planned, waiting for the other person to respond. “You connected the two Tardises, creating a useful time tunnel that I’m looking to exploit. One blast to let them know I’m here, another to have a conversation. Dream Lord, your worst nightmares are coming true...I’m about to meet myself.”

“You can’t!” He was sounding disturbingly pitiful now as the frequency of his disappearances increased. “You go on about the danger of paradoxes and yet you’ll happily create one yourself.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done a fair few times now, usually around my birthday. The thing is, you don’t have the power to control both realities now I’m funneling this extra power away from you. Which means you either stop me or you shut down that reality and wake Clara up.” The Doctor’s eyebrows were drawn together, a dark, challenging frown on his face. The Dream Lord refused to speak, knowing he would lose his one advantage if he broke down his artificial reality. Shrugging his shoulders, the Doctor let out a sigh, more for the other man rather than down to any inconvenience. “Just remember that I gave you the chance to save yourself.” He closed his eyes and blocked out the noise of the Dream Lord’s shouts and the beeps of the Tardis. “Contact.”

**********

“The other Tardis?” Yaz asked in a bewildered fashion. “How are they doing that? Does this mean that they escaped from the Dream Lord?”

Graham’s eyes lit up in hope. “Does that mean they can help save us? I don’t want it to sound like I don’t have faith in you, Doc, but we have been stuck in this conundrum for quite some time now.”

The Doctor frowned at the faint insult although she was still more focused on the beacon coming through, curious as to what plan was in motion, a plan that was forming in her head too. “All it means is that I can’t overestimate how clever I used to be when I put some effort in.” She looked up to glance at her Fam, her team of loyal friends as they waited eagerly in anticipation for a more fully-formed answer. “The Doctor, me but the other me...the past me...is sending a signal through. Nothing fancy, nothing technologically advanced. It’s basically a Gallifreyan text message, if that makes it clearer.”

“What’s he saying?” Yaz wondered, standing by her side, her usual position. She always tried to be the closest to the Doctor, for reasons that she hoped the other woman could clearly understand by now. She resisted putting a hand on the Doctor’s arm, an action that would have felt so natural in the other world. Now, with her love back in her alien mindset, it was if a barrier had been put up, a warning sign clearly marked that told her not to initiate any intimate physical contact. She had always meant to ask why that was, never finding the right moment to bring up such personal questions. Yaz had been given a taste of what it felt like though (and more than just a mere taste when she thought about it properly, as the blush on her cheeks attested for), making her want it even more than before.

“Time Lords have this clever little trick where they can talk to another of their race mentally. We have telepathic skills, honed from an early age in the Academy. Some are better at it than others. I’d like to point out that I was top of my class in that sense, although I’m not one to brag. I also failed the majority of my classes so I really shouldn’t have brought it up.”

They were all fascinated by what she was saying, the Doctor never opening up like this usually. It had taken them a considerable amount of time before they’d discovered what her home planet was called, after all. She wasn’t an easy book to open so they were happy to see that they were finally prising some pages open. That didn't mean that they were any less confused, Ryan scrunching up his face as he tried to follow.

“So you’re going to have a conversation...with yourself...in your head?” he summarised. They had to admit that it sounded absurd when he put it so plainly. “And you can do this across space? I thought being able to facetime Graham from Spain was a big deal.”

“Will we be able to see them? Your past self, that is?” Yaz put forward hopefully. She was intrigued about the Doctor’s past, which was pretty unavoidable when she was such an impossible enigma at times. 

The Doctor tapped her head, ruffling up her hair slightly. “It’s all in here, I’m afraid. We’re taking a risk by doing this, which tells me that he’s struggling. If it’s who I think it is, then there’s only one reason...or, more aptly, one person...who would put him in this position.” She smiled at her friends encouragingly. “The issue is that, whilst we’re communicating like this, we’re pretty unresponsive. That means you’re going to be on your own for a short while so, if the Dream Lord pops up, which he might...then I’m relying on you to hold him back.”

“How long are you going to be gone for?” Graham asked the obvious question, not wanting to face off against the man after what he’d put them through. They always relied on the Doc so maybe it was time to prove to her that they were able to stand on their own two feet.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “Not extremely long. It takes a lot of energy to do this so we don’t have unlimited amounts of time on our hands. But I have faith in you that you can do this.” She looked at Yaz in an unreadable fashion. “I believe in you.” That simple sentence seemed to strengthen the younger woman’s resolve, which had begun to falter as she started to comprehend the danger she was putting herself in, as she nodded her head. The Doctor smiled once more, taking one last look, before she closed her eyes and whispered a final word. “Contact.”

**********

When her eyes opened, the Doctor found herself in a strange void, a blank expanse of grey nothingness. Was this what her head looked like on the inside? She had always thought it would be a bit more colourful, possibly matching the rainbow that adorned her shirt. Once this was all over, she planned to remodel it. It could do with a lick of paint, a few photographs hung up (although there didn't seem to be any walls to use to do that, which would make it trickier), a couple of plants would really liven the place up. It was a disconcerting place, that was the word she was looking for. If she hadn’t had known it was her mind, the essence of her long-lasting consciousness, then the Doctor would have been very afraid. It seemingly went on forever - how long could she walk for before returning to the spot she was currently standing on? Would she ever realise that she was at the same spot since everything looked the same? It was the sort of conundrum that she would have liked to spend a bit of time on, curled up by a fire as she debated the physics and calculated the equations. Then she would excitedly tell the Fam that she had figured it out and they would have no idea what she was talking about. If only she wasn’t facing a massive crisis. Evil always reared its ugly head at the most infuriating of times.

There was a cough to her side, telling her that she wasn’t actually alone in the void. She spun around energetically, her coat billowing along with her, only to be faced by a ghost of her past. In all truth, she had suspected it would be  _ him _ , or that version of  _ her. _ Gender pronouns were so clunky in situations like this, which was why she tended to steer clear of them. The Doctor didn't know how she had missed him in the first place with no one else around; she was likely having one of her slow days. She was allowed one or two every century. She looked him up and down, thinking back to the time she had looked like him. The eyebrows were even more pronounced from this new perspective and she thought she should have done a better job at keeping the hair in check, the wild mane even fluffier than she remembered. He stood stiffly as he observed her movements, his arms folded, a far cry from her nimble actions, as if she was floating rather than walking. That was a possibility since the laws of physics tended to be different in your head compared to the real world.

The Doctor, the grey-haired Scottish version, was trying his best not to show his shock at what he was seeing. Was this really what he became? She was small, a lot shorter than him. And what was she wearing? Why could he never stick to keeping an outfit across regenerations? She probably would have looked good in plain pants, an old band t-shirt and a hoodie. Whereas he wouldn’t have been seen dead in the outfit she had on; he knew Clara would have a fit if he turned up wearing something similar. The Doctor could scarcely believe that this was actually him. There must have been a mistake. Sure, he was rather intrigued about being a woman but how could he become so  _ different _ ? It’s why he hated regeneration. The person you died along with the body, no matter how philosophical you got about it. The difficult thing was that he had to accept she was him and he was her because there was no other explanation for her being here. This was his mind and he was extremely picky about who got put on the guest list.

“So this is what I become,” he said in a sort of greeting, clearly not impressed judging from his expression. He hadn’t moved once since arriving, apart from when he had run a hand through his hair in disbelief, whilst she was constantly moving about, swaying as she analysed him.

“I know!” she beamed with a grin. “I quite like it. I think it’s an upgrade really. I can do a lot more running now although people usually take longer to take me seriously, which can be  _ extremely _ annoying, especially in certain tight situations.”

“And do you always talk at a million miles per second?” he asked, trying to keep up with her. “People not immediately listening to you probably doesn’t have anything to do with how you look - they likely just zone out whilst you prattle on.”

“I forgot I could be so insulting and rude,” she shot back, a frown on her face. “This must be fairly early on in your life. You do actually mellow out towards the end. By that point, you’re a lot more like me than you’d care to admit right now. Just you wait. Then I can smugly say I told you so.”

“You shouldn’t really be telling me anything about what my future holds,” he warned, although his voice was nowhere being stern. He would almost admit that it was playful but it  _ definitely _ wasn’t. “Paradoxes and all that. You’ve just told me that I become...nicer...something which I dispute anyway because I’m already perfectly kind towards the people that matter...so now I could actively do my best to stop that from happening and...poof! You blink out of existence and the banging in my head will slowly disappear.”

“First of all, I know you don’t mean that. I can see we’re already getting along like the best of friends.” Her sunny disposition was already grating on his nerves. “Secondly, you know that we never listen to the rules, especially concerning things like this. The universe is more malleable than we care to admit, mainly because acting all knowledgeable and strict is fun to do. Clara used to love it when you did it, I remember.”

“Used to?” he asked softly, all thoughts about this strange incarnation of himself dissipating as he considered the implications. Thirteen winced, realising that she had said too much, let something slip that she wasn’t supposed to. And, with it being about that specific woman and this specific incarnation, it was the worst thing to have said. He hadn’t lived through it yet; his eyes were unburdened by that grief. “So she’s not travelling with you now?”

“No,” she tentatively answered, reluctant to cause any more damage. “You know I can’t say anything else about it. That  _ would _ be going too far.” She was pitying herself as she watched him nodded his head sullenly, hand up to his mouth. Past emotions came bubbling up in her heart, memories returning of the love she had felt, the love she still felt. Then that sadness, the terrible sadness that came with such a great loss. “All I’ll tell you is that...she was happy and still is. None of it was your fault. She’d want you to understand that.”

“And you found someone else? You moved on?” He didn't think it was possible to do so, to get past the wonderful Clara Oswald. Why was he feeling angry towards the woman in front of him?

“We always do, despite it being so hard. There’s a bit of an interlude here and there but you make it out alright. I’m currently with a great bunch of people, who I pretty much stumbled across. Well...there was a train and gravity can be potent...but I’m getting ahead of myself again. We shouldn’t really be wasting time on reminiscing anyway. We’ve got things to do.”

“I suppose we do,” Twelve said, although his mind was still on the uncertainty of his future. He always knew that, eventually, Clara would leave him, either out of choice, necessity or...the other thing that he didn't want to mention. But that didn't mean he was willing to lie down and accept it. Again, his mind turned to the reality the Dream Lord had spun, where he never had to think about the finite time he had with Clara. Their lives would be spent together, an impossible dream in his reality. “You’re just as trapped as I am, I’m presuming. If it’s anything like me and Clara are experiencing, then you keep waking up between the fictional reality and the Tardis.”

“Exactly. Although I feel like we’re spending more time in the distorted version of Earth, which can’t be a good sign. The Dream Lord’s sway is growing stronger, which means we’re possibly giving in to the temptations. I don’t want to blame you for that but...you always were a pushover when it came to  _ her _ . It was always bound to make things complicated.”

Twelve looked rightfully offended, sputtering incoherently as he tried to find a way to defend himself. Maybe it was true that the possibility of falling in love with Clara, her having the same feelings, and then being able to spend a life with her was making a decision that should have been easy a lot more difficult. But he wasn’t about to admit that, especially to himself because she would lord it over him for all time. The best means of defence was attack. “Oh, I’m certain that whatever he’s presented you with hasn’t made you think twice. Is it someone else? Have you made the same mistake as I have and fallen in love?”

“Maybe we’re both just idiots,” she answered evasively, not yet putting those feelings into words, even inside her own head. They were dangerous, as was proving in this battle. Not only did it make the Doctor less sure about her decisions, but it also put Yaz at risk. The other life was so much simpler and actually a lot more fun at times. “Here we are, walking into his trap and yet we expect our friends to be able to make the decision to leave that world behind. We’re asking too much of them.”

“We’re asking what has to be asked. That reality can’t survive. It’s already gone on for too long. I know it’s difficult but it’s not real. No matter how much we want to believe it is. The more time we spend in there, the less likely we are to disown it. We’re reaching the critical point.”

“So how do we go about stopping the Dream Lord? Is it enough to just say that we choose the life we have?”

“I don’t really know. I’d hope so but I reckon we’ll also have to convince our other selves to make that choice too, which will understandably be a lot more frustrating.” He could feel something tugging on his sleeve, his mind being pulled back towards where his body was. “We’re running out of time here. We should be able to communicate through the Tardises if they can hold onto the residual power. If not...good luck, Doctor. And make the right choice.”

Thirteen blinked and he was gone. She was alone again in the void, left to think by herself before she returned too. She knew what choice had to be made but did that make it the right one for her?

**********

When the Doctor came to, Clara was still asleep on the floor. Somehow, he had remained standing during the length of the mental projection, a testament to how sturdy his calf muscles were (that was simply down to all the running he’d been forced to do over the years). It also signalled that time had been running differently inside his head, which he’d expected. He hoped it was the case for the Dream Lord’s reality too, hoping they hadn’t been trapped in here for too long. The Tardis was a wondrous machine but even it had a limited store of oxygen after so much time of continuous use. There wasn’t even any way of telling what the levels were at the moment, with the console being functionally useless for the time being, apart from the flashing light that was still refusing to stop, their only connection to the outside world. He messed with a few levers pointlessly just to give his arms something to do, always having hated the feeling of not being able to do anything. His conversation with his future self hadn’t revealed too much about the situation he didn't already know; really, all it had done was make him worry about what life had in store for him in the coming months or years. He really did hate himself at times. Scratch that, all the time.

Clara’s body shifted gently by his feet. As he crouched down to be at her level, there to reassure her (they already knew how the transition between realities was incredibly confusing and vexing), the Doctor cautiously looked around the suspiciously empty console room. There was no sight of the Dream Lord, which didn't always rule out that he was, in fact, still there. But he almost got the sense that his presence wasn’t there, removed from the Tardis. For how long, he simply didn't know. Any time away from his was a blessing and it reminded the Doctor that he wasn’t infallible, still weaker than he cared to admit. It was the only bright spot that he could cling onto. The subversion of his power in the act of getting through to the other Tardis comforted the Time Lord in the belief that they still had a chance. The main issue was that, although they had cleared one rather large hurdle, the most difficult aspect of escaping was approaching them. And it happened to be the most crucial step, something that was normally the case in his experience. Life wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t easy, he told himself.

Yet his other life was comparatively much easier and, he had to admit, it  _ was _ fun in different ways to his existence in the realm he was currently in. It was a dangerous thought to still be having but, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t get rid of it. John and Clara, shaping the minds of the next generation as they fell in love. It sounded so idyllic, like something out of one of the cheesy Christmas films Clara had made him watch one cold December (against his begrudging will). His mind kept telling him that it was too perfect, that a world couldn’t be that good to someone. He felt really old when he told himself that, the years weighing down upon him. How cynical had he grown to truly believe that? Had he seen too much destruction and death across his lives that he no longer felt the good outweighed the bad in the universe? How many planets had he been able to save compared to the ones he had lost? The Doctor didn't particularly want to consider that point. Mainly because, if he did, he would likely want to fall back into the dream world and never leave. The darkness never got you there. He was forgetting that the darkness had been a major part of what had made him who he was now.

Clara mumbled something unintelligible and it broke him from his sombre mindset. A new issue came to the forefront as he remembered the last time he had spoken to her, he had practically confessed his love. She hadn’t been able to react before the Dream Lord had got to her, meaning he had no way of knowing what she was going to be like now. His insecurities ate away at him, the ones he did so well to hide most of the time when it didn't concern this woman. He was meant to be a lord of time and yet he was a bumbling wreck around her. 

“He...got me, didn't he?” she asked in a small voice, her face distorted into a wince. “The little twerp got to me again. I shouldn’t have had my back to him. Although...now I think about it...he just appeared behind me so it wasn’t really my fault. You should have seen him coming. I’ll blame you.” Her voice was barely a whisper but she was still able to ramble on, a side effect of the mental strain she’d been put through.

The Doctor didn't want to get her to stand up just yet, not wanting to risk rushing her when she was in this state. He decided to deploy his wonderful skills of small talk, the greatest evil in the galaxy. “What were you doing in there? What were you dreaming about?” He emphasised the element of dreaming that it had to have entailed, more to remind himself than her.

“I...don’t think I was there for very long. Maybe only a couple of days. Nothing exciting, a lazy weekend. I wanted to...go out with you, I remember.” She couldn’t meet his eyes as she mentioned that caveat of information. “But I couldn’t find you. You weren’t answering your calls. I find that very rude, by the way.”

The Doctor had to fight the warm feeling spreading across his chest at the thought of her wanting to see him in that manner, even if he had lived through it himself. “You can’t blame me for that! I wasn’t even there! I was still here, decidedly not asleep.”

“And why was that?” she asked through squinted eyes, picking up on his evasive demeanour. “Why did the Dream Lord spare you? Did you tell you anything?”

The Doctor held up his hands innocently. “I did something very clever that you should be praising me for, not berating me. I got through to the other Tardis and I may have...spoken to myself.”

Clara perked up at that, sitting up eagerly, immediately wanting all of the details. “What were you like?”

“Annoyingly energetic and chipper,” he grumbled. “She just wouldn’t stop talking, which I know is nothing like me.”

Clara’s face froze. “She?” She could barely form a sentence as he cautiously nodded his head. “A...future version of yourself?”

“Well, I’ve never been a woman before to the best of my knowledge so she must be.” He was concerned by the way Clara’s eyes were beginning to inflate like they tended to do when she was sad. “Clara...what’s wrong?”

She wiped at her nose, sniffling. “It’s nothing. It’s just that...the Dream Lord told me it was another version of you in  _ this _ body. He kept saying that you moved on and I...started to believe him.”

The Doctor, faintly aware that his future incarnation had let slip that that was what was bound to happen, ignored the tumult in his head and lightly kissed Clara on the forehead, bringing her in close. “As if I could ever move on from you.”

The reassuring comment was exactly what she needed, thinking back to what he had said before she’d fallen unconscious. “Good. And...I guess I can get behind the idea of you being a woman. It sounds...exciting. Certainly something I can be on board with.” She was smiling now, which the Doctor thought was a vast improvement. “Although I’m perfectly fine with you right now. I haven’t even gotten started.” She looked into his eyes earnestly. “I didn't dream what you said in here, did I?”

His eyes looked away from her, finding the floor to be a lot more interesting. “Whatever happens inside the Tardis, we can be assured that it’s real. So...no. You didn't make it up.”

Clara smiled broadly, unashamedly. “So what do we do now? About us?”

The Doctor stood up, helping her up too. He was grinning like her now, full of confidence as he realised he could have the best of both worlds. “Well...our hearts have spoken at the best possible time. The one thing luring us to the other reality was that need to...be with one another.”

“And we could have that here instead. So...we can leave that place? Just...denounce it or something?”

“Sadly not,” he said with a frown. “It’s one thing for us to say we choose this reality. It’s another thing to make the other versions of ourselves make that choice too. We have to go back in. And we have to somehow remember the choice we’ve just made. Or the Dream Lord could keep us in there forever.”


	17. Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctors and their companions try to break through the wall between realities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back after a short break over the festive period! Hope you enjoy this latest installment

When John woke up, his head felt like he had a miniature marching band racing around inside it. He tiredly rubbed a hand across his forehead, moaning grumpily as he did so. For some reason, he had thought there was some sort of alarm going off, although he hadn’t set one of those since his student days (he was very proud of his acute mental time keeping skills). He’d been forced to wake up...by himself? It didn't really make sense but not a lot would when your head was pounding so viciously. The only time he had such serious headaches was when he drank too much whiskey the evening before but it had been quite a while since that happened (Sarah Jane had practically done a one-woman intervention to sort him out before he properly hurt himself). He was in no fit state to teach, that was for certain so he was immensely grateful for the fact that it was the weekend. John would have preferred to use that luxury to have a lie-in but his head was having none of it. Was there a word for a sensation where it felt like a million tiny knives were stabbing your brain? He should make one up once his head sorted itself out.

Wanting to stay in bed where he could roll up in the warmth of his duvet, John forced himself to roll out. He wished that this had been a one time occurrence but, ever since his talk with Sarah Jane, his mind had been unable to focus on anything sane. At times, he would forget long held memories from his childhood, which were still extremely foggy and confusing now. On occasion, he would get mystifying visions that were incomprehensible, a mess of different events that had to be impossible because there was no way he could have experienced them in the first place. He tried to tell himself that they were the fragments of old dreams resurfacing (that was possible, right?) but that easy explanation didn't seem to sit right with him. There was something else there, lurking just below the surface. John knew that, if he kept digging, he would discover the truth of the matter eventually. Hopefully. In truth, he had been plagued with worries since he’d discovered something was strange with the house Clara had shown him. Had that triggered something inside of him? Why had that led him to start thinking about a metal dog with a high pitched voice? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

He felt especially sorry for Clara, who still had no idea what he was going through. John had had to get through one more day at the university to reach the bliss of the weekend, which had involved pretending that everything was okay and the same around her. He felt immensely guilty that he had practically been lying to her, or at least omitting a large chunk of truth. But John was primarily scared that, if he were to unload these absurd fears onto her, Clara would look at him with large, wide eyes and run away to safety. Then everyone would look at him like he was some sort of weirdo and he’d gradually become a social recluse, the weird man at the end of the street who everyone swapped stories about. His mind had the tendency to concoct the worst case scenarios but, this time, it was the only possibility he could fathom. There was no way that she would believe any of it was real, no matter how much she seemed to like him, which was already a strange enough outcome as it was. Thankfully, Clara hadn’t appeared to notice that anything was wrong with him (he guessed that he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for). In fact, they had planned to have another date night the next day, mainly because John hadn’t been able to think of a good enough reason to say no that didn't involve him blurting out something along the lines of him being plagued by existential doubt and dread. Even when he worded it like that in his head, he was fearful that he had already lost his mind. 

Realising that the best cure to ease his troubles was some fresh air, John decided to head out from his home and take a walk. To what destination, he had no clue. Wherever his legs took him. It wasn’t raining, which was a plus, although there was an evil chill in the air that could invade even the cosiest of coats. The sun was normally out by now but it had been suspiciously absent and dull in the past two days, with no explanation as to why that was the case (the woman doing the weather forecast was equally as clueless, which made for excellent television). John didn't really think about where he was walking to, allowing his mind to drift as he strolled through the city. He would stare at the trees blowing in the gentle breeze, wishing he could be as carefree as them. The birds in the sky were flying around as if there was nothing to be afraid about. He contemplated shouting up at them that they should have been more concerned with the fabric of reality but stopped himself just in time, realising that the other people milling about would probably have reported him for public intoxication. Now was not the time to be distracted by a visit to the police station. He’d had too many of them in the seventies for ‘resisting the man’, as his younger self had put it. Strangely enough, John struggled to remember the specifics of those escapades, another symptom to add to whatever his condition was.

Eventually, his legs came to a stop and he looked up. His brow furrowed when he saw that he had somehow made his way to the cafe that he and Clara had gone to on their first not-a-date date, the one she had dragged him to on the way to that mysterious house. He hadn’t been thinking about this place in the slightest, which confused him. Why had he come here? What were his legs up to? Was he trying to remind himself of the simpler times when he had first met Clara? Was it another piece in the puzzle he was trying to put together? Or was he just hungry? The latter was the likely explanation (he was a man who tended to be led by his stomach more than his mind at times) so he stepped inside, noting the gentle ring of the bell above the door, hoping that a hot drink and some food would help ease his warring mind.

“You’re in here early,” he heard a cockney voice say once he was inside. “We don’t normally get any customers at this time on the weekend. You’re lucky that I’m here. Grace wanted a lie in but I told her I have a duty to the sarnies.” 

A graying man smiled at John from behind the counter, a tea towel slung haphazardly over the counter. Something strange happened as he looked at the other man, his headache growing worse. He felt like he  _ knew _ this stranger. He could remember extraordinary adventures that were actually in his future. Well, that just didn't make sense. You couldn’t have memories of something that was yet to happen, which surely meant it wasn’t real. He had been in the cafe before - maybe he had just seen him around in the kitchen. 

“Have we met before?” John asked him pointedly, clambering onto a stool by the counter, holding his head in his hands.

Graham stared at him in confusion, as if he was trying to scan John’s face to see if it was recognisable. He let out a chuckle. “I can’t say we have. I might have one of those faces.” He frowned at the man in front of him. “Are you feeling okay? Rough night last night?” Graham didn't wait for an answer, clicking his fingers when he got an idea. “I tell you what...I’ll go back there and put the kettle on. See if there’s anything you like on display. You might not know me yet but most of my friendships start with a shared cuppa and a chocolate muffin.”

John gratefully took the hot mug once Graham returned. He was thankful that there was no one else inside to look at him, to judge him. For some reason, he felt like he could trust this man, like they’d formed a bond. But that wasn’t possible within a minute of meeting someone. It honestly seemed like he’d known him years. His head hurt even more. 

Graham, with no other customers in sight, took a seat behind the counter, opposite John. “You really don’t look too good.” 

“I’ve had a lot on my mind recently,” John answered. 

“Girl trouble?”

John smirked, wishing it were that simple. “You could call it that, yeah.” He took a sip of the tea, savouring the warmth. “It’s just...I’m starting to think that things aren’t as simple as they seem.”

“Welcome to life,” Graham said with a smile. “It’s never easy but that’s what makes the journey worthwhile. If you got what you wanted right at the start...well, there’d be nowhere for you to go. Difficulty just makes the success that much sweeter.”

“It’s not like that,” John snapped, even though he knew that there was no way this man could comprehend where he was coming from. “Even you, standing there. Right now, my head is making it seem like I’ve known you for years. Would you believe it if I said that we travelled together, although I don’t think I looked like this, which makes it sound even more ludicrous? A different life, completely at odds with what we know.”

Graham paused and John was worried that he was about to ask him to leave. “Well...I’d say it sounds like some sort of science fiction film that my grandson enjoys. I’ve heard stranger things though.”

“You have?” John asked with a disbelieving laugh. “Now that I don’t reckon is true.”

“Be that as it may, I see it that people in this world need to open their eyes a bit more at times, let their imagination run wild. It never hurts people to believe in something. Although I’d recommend you don’t lose sight of reality, especially if you have a lovely lady waiting for you in the real world. Dreams are great but life is a lot better. Does that answer your question?”

“I...actually think it might,” John said honestly. “I needed this chat and something inside me told me to come here. Like I knew that you’d know what was the perfect thing to say. Thank you.” He dropped a twenty pound note onto the counter as payment (Graham attempted to tell him that it was far too much) before standing up hurriedly, renewed vigour pushing him. “Thank you. I need to go talk to someone.” He raced through the doors with one last exclamation of gratitude, leaving Graham on his own.

“What a strange man,” he mumbled. Why was it that he believed him though?

**********

The phone was ringing again, as it had been for at least half an hour. It would go through sustained periods of constant beeping before pausing for a while, then the cycle would repeat. Yaz didn't even bother to look at it anymore or try to stop it, knowing who it was and, if she did try to cut off the call, it would simply start again with renewed vigour. She was sitting on the sofa of her apartment, her knees tucked up under her chin, her body huddled tightly together as if that would protect her. Her eyes were red and raw, tear stains marring her cheeks. She’d given up wiping them away too, allowing them to fall freely as she thought about what had happened. The curtains were drawn closed to prevent any sunlight invading her small home, Yaz wanting to separate herself from the outside world since she believed she didn't deserve to be a part of it. It was the sort of mindset that had plagued her constantly throughout school (how cruel kids could be without even trying) and one that she had thought she had finally moved on from. But it seemed that mental scars always remained, no matter how brave a face you put on, no matter how much you lied to yourself. It wasn’t fair. She had gotten everything she’d hoped for in life and now she was trying her best to take it away from herself. 

The scene kept replaying over and over in her head. It had started so innocently, seeing the tub of biscuits. Any normal person would have reacted sanely, seeing it as just a metal box. But no, her mind was never willing to cooperate with her. It had grown to be too much, the visions racing through her mind. Jo had been asking her whether she was okay, whether she needed any painkillers, but her voice had sounded like it was coming from miles away or through water, distorted and nonsensical. Without hardly any explanation, Yaz had run away from Jo’s apartment because that was what she was best at, running away from her problems instead of facing them. She had arrived home in a horrid state, her mind shouting at her. She had been inside ever since, only moving to get what little food she could stomach. She felt bad for leaving Jo so abruptly but she knew that there was no way of explaining what she was going through. It was just another example of her brain ruining anything good that happened in her life. Had she always been this self-destructive? It didn't matter anymore; there was no chance that the other woman would want to see her ever again with the way she had been treated. No one deserved that, especially Jo - she deserved a lot better than her.

She had spent the time in her solitude trying to make sense of the false memories that had come from nowhere. Yaz was sure that they must have been the remnants of an old science fiction show she’d watched years ago because there was no other explanation. The Tardis, that was what it was called, the box that could fly through time and space and was bigger on the inside. She had seen herself inside it, smiling, crying, living life to its fullest. They had been in space, trapped at one point, rescued another. There was a trip to America but not how it was nowadays (or was it really just the same socially?). The images came thick and fast, moments where she reached her highest points and occasions where she was at her lowest. She had tried to concentrate hard on who the other people were, their faces slowly morphing into something recognisable. She had met them all on a train. It wasn’t moving, broken, under attack. Ryan had been there, as were Graham and Grace. Why wasn’t Grace in any other memories? Then there had been the other woman, the stranger, the lunatic, the one who took control of every situation, the one who Yaz had become enamoured with, probably more than that. It had been Jo...but not Jo, that was what her brain was trying to tell her. The woman had Jo’s face, her eyes, her smile...but there was a crucial fact that Yaz was missing and it was adding to her torment. It was as if she was trying to break through a brick wall and all she needed was one more big push...but it wouldn’t come. 

The lack of progress did nothing to help the mental state she was in. Yaz felt desperately alone, trapped inside her own mind, a prisoner to her own imagination. None of it could be real but yet it felt like it was. She had never experienced any of it yet she believed she had? She noticed that the phone hadn’t been ringing for a good while now and she wondered whether Jo had finally given up, realising that it wasn’t worth the hassle. How long had the noise stopped for? How long had she been floating through her mind, caught in its web? She was faintly aware of a scratching noise at the front door but she didn't have the strength to investigate what was the cause of it. In the end, she didn't have to as the door flung open, Jo stumbling in with a worried look on her, the maintenance guy of the building visible in the hallway. Yaz flinched away from the light that flooded in from the corridor; the small movement she made was enough to get Jo’s attention, spotting where she was. The initial expression she’d been wearing was anger, anger at being kept in the dark by the younger woman, anger at being avoided and being made to worry and fret. But, as she looked at Yaz, how terrified her eyes were, the way her pupils darted about frantically, the expression softened. The anger turned to sorrow and fear, wondering what had caused this reaction. She motioned to the man outside to close the door, leaving them on their own. Jo slowly opened the curtains, allowing Yaz to adjust to the soft natural light that floated through the windows. Then she tentatively took a seat next to her, risking putting a hand on Yaz’s knee. 

“I was so worried,” she said, her voice a whisper. “You ran away so suddenly that I thought I’d done something wrong. I tried calling...and calling...but you wouldn’t answer. In the end, I realised that I couldn’t just stay at home all day, fretting, especially since you could have been in trouble. I had to convince Clive to let me into your apartment. He refused at first, citing building manager-occupant codes but then I showed him that I’m a doctor and that I needed to check up on you and he relented. At least the job title comes with a few perks.” She tried to smile, hoping it would make Yaz do the same but her expression was still distant and unfocused.

“I’m sorry,” she lamely responded, her voice monotonous and without feeling.

“I know,” Jo said, realising that this was even more serious than she’d expected. She had never seen anything like it but, if the woman she cared for was suffering, she would find a way to fix things. “Do you want to talk about what happened? You were really happy one moment, then the next you were crying. You couldn’t tell me why.”

“I’m sorry,” Yaz repeated, looking at Jo properly for the first time. “It was stupid. My brain is stupid. It does this sometimes, messes with me. It hasn’t happened for ages and it has never been like this.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. If it’s concerning you, then the only way to deal with it is by talking about it. You know you can trust me. I hope you’ve come to realise that over the time we’ve spent together.” She reached a hand out to place it over one of Yaz’s but she pulled her arm away, back on the defensive again.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you. You’d think I was mad and you would make me go to the hospital for testing. Doctors from around the country would visit to try and figure out what’s wrong with me but they’d just realise that it’s all my fault. I think my mind hates me.”

“That’s not true. And I don’t think we need to get anyone else involved because I’m here, talking to you, right now, in private. This is the safest place on the planet at this moment in time and you need to know that I’ll believe whatever you say. Because I know you would never lie to me.”

Yaz looked down at her hands as she messed with her fingers nervously, understanding that Jo was right, as she usually was about most things. “Have you ever had an experience where you felt you’ve lived another life? I was a different person, braver, bolder, more outgoing. But what I saw was impossible. Because you were there too! And I’d never met you before we bumped into each other on the street. Maybe my imagination is running wild.”

She looked up and her eyes landed on Jo’s face. Her expression seemed different, her entire demeanour changed from a second ago. She was looking at Yaz with great focus, her eyebrows knitted together and a pained frown on her face. “It’s not your imagination, Yaz.” Her voice was stronger than usual, more determined. “You’re doing so well. But you need to keep pushing. We can only win, we can only defeat this if you keep trying to remember that life. I don’t have a lot of time here so remember this: I believe in you, Yasmin Khan. I believe you can do this.” 

Jo’s face turned into a pained expression once more and then she abruptly stood up, Yaz copying her actions. Her eyes were worried now, staring at Yaz in confusion. A hand reached up to her mouth, covering it warily. “That...that wasn’t me talking. That was someone else’s voice! But my voice.” She was practically shaking as she tried to process what had just happened. “How is that possible, Yaz? What’s going on?”

**********

Another happy set of customers walked out of the door as he sent them a cheerful wave in farewell, already counting how much money he had taken from them in one quick sale. With a contented sigh, he sat back down and logged the details onto the computer on his desk. His business, sitting right in the middle of London’s busiest high street, was still a booming success, mainly thanks to the foot traffic he so successfully lured in. He especially liked to prey on young, happy couples, showing them the possibility of a bright, comfortable future and plummeting them into eternal debt so they could buy a snapshot of it. The main thing was that it kept him occupied (he couldn’t follow  _ them _ around all the time - they were extremely boring in this world, so fixated on one another, and he had a lot more better things to do than stalk his playthings) and at least he enjoyed it, as much as he could enjoy anything. He’d had a number of jobs in the past (had he been a butcher at one point?) and this was the one that fit his personality the most. 

He looked up as the bell chimed to tell him someone else had walked in and he plastered on his best fake smile, wondering who the unlucky customer was. Maybe a poor old woman who had wandered in by mistake and would leave with the papers for a small apartment in the Maldives that she would never go to. It could be another recently divorced dad who was looking for a cool, modern flat that would impress his two teenage kids, although they all knew that it wouldn’t work. As his gaze fell on the visitor, the smirk he’d been wearing slipped, turning into a worried frown. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He hadn’t planned this. Sure, he had bumped into  _ him _ at least once on the street so that he could sneakily send him a message, make him do his own bidding, force him further into the trap. But he liked to be the one who was one step ahead of everyone else in the game and now he was on the backfoot. He never enjoyed it when that happened and it seemed that only this person was capable of doing it (apart from his little friends but they were insignificant compared to the Time Lord). Making sure his mask was restored, a facade of fake pleasantry, he stood up and smiled at the Doctor. What did he call himself in this world? John Smith, that was it. Whatever his name was, he didn't look especially happy. The grey eyebrows knitted together were the big giveaway.

John immediately didn't like the small building as he took his first steps inside. Having found the real estate agents’ website online, the one that was selling the house that had been troubling his mind so much, it had been easy to get its location. After his short chat with Graham in the cafe, he had decided it was time to face his concerns head on and this was the only lead he had right now. The walls were painted a horrid lime green with photos of luxury homes dotted about the place. His eyes landed on the man he had seen in the photo on the website as he was even more repulsed by him in person. His bright green suit matched the colour scheme of the shop and the only thing more garish was the orange tie he had paired with the outfit. His mousy brown hair was slicked back with far too much gel but what made John the most uneasy was the smile he was wearing. Straight away, he could tell it was a lie, insincere and laced with malice. It spoke of greed and corruption and John had the strange need to smack it off his face. He controlled himself though, knowing that it wasn’t the best policy to judge someone by their appearance. He hoped that his first instincts would be wrong but he had little faith that that was going to be the case. 

“Hello there,” the estate agent greeted in the fashion he’d perfected. Not too overbearing and in your face but pleasant enough all the same. “It’s nice of you to pop by. Is there anything I can help you with?” He knew that this man wasn’t strictly the Doctor but he couldn’t take any risks. He understood how tricky a man he could be.

“Are you Toby or Jones?” John asked, cutting straight to the chase. He had no time for the forced pleasantries. “I saw your website...online.”  _ Obviously _ , what a stupid thing to say. He needed to compose himself. “You’re the big realty mogul in the city.”

“I’m actually both. Toby and Jones. It’s meant to be an inside joke and yet I’m still amazed that people don’t get it. And thank you, I don’t like to brag about my achievements but the awards speak for themselves.” He gestured to a shelf full of glittering awards, which John could tell he was too proud of. Best real estate agent 2014 and 2015. Best realtor smile 2004. Rear of the Year, Chiswick edition, 1995. There were too many to count and he was sceptical that they were all real. “I think they tell you that you’ve made the right choice in coming here. Are you looking to buy or rent? Or are you wanting something of your own put on the market? I must warn you, I’m very particular about what I choose to sell.”  _ Toby and Jones _ sent him a winning smile, which John was sure twinkled like you usually saw on the television.

“It’s actually about this house,” John said, bringing out his phone and pulling up the screenshot he had taken (he had needed to research how to take a screenshot in the first place but that wasn’t the point). “I was wondering what you could tell me about it.”

When the Dream Lord saw the picture in question, he found his smile disappearing for the second time in quick succession. He’d known it was a risk to include it in the reality but it had been too tempting, that one last factor that would make Clara Oswald never want to leave. First, she would find it, then the childhood memories would kick in, and then she’d miraculously win the keys to the house in some rigged competition and her dreams would come true. He hadn’t thought it was possible for either of them to properly recognise it. It was too obscure a memory, a tiny fragment of her past that even she should have forgotten about by now. Something was going wrong but it still wasn’t too late to amend things. No need to worry.

“Oh, that one!” he said with a tad too much exuberance. “That’s one of my favourites. It really does stand out against the monotony of the city, don’t you think? The bright colours against the silver behemoths around it? It was a rare find indeed and, sadly, no one’s been interested in buying it so far. In the company, all of our colleagues dream of being the one to sell it. It seems that, although people like to say they’re individuals, no one has the guts to stand out and own it. Unless you’re interested…”

John could see what he was trying to do and he decided to steer clear of that rabbit hole altogether. “How long has it been there?”

“Oh...I don’t know precisely. We’ve had it a few years now. It’s basically like a child to me. It’ll hurt to let it go, which might come through in the final total but we don’t need to talk about money just yet. Not us friends.”

“I think you’re lying to me,” John growled, staring down at the smaller man. “And I think you’re wanting to lie at me. What are you trying to hide?”

The Dream Lord frowned, his lips pressed together. The stare of a Time Lord was a formidable thing, even when it was diluted by humanity. “My, someone has a wild imagination. I’ve only just met you. Why would I want to lie to you? It sounds like you have some trust issues. Therapy might help with that. I do run sessions at the weekend if you’re interested. I’m sure I have some business cards lying around.”

“Who are you?” John shouted angrily. “I’ve seen your face before and I’m getting increasingly annoyed about that fact. It’ll be better for everyone if you just tell me.”

“Now, listen here. You can’t just come into my place of work and raise your voice like that. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” In truth, the Dream Lord wanted him to go before their shared presence triggered a way for the Doctor to fight his way through. The more John Smith saw him, the likelier it was that he’d remember who he was. 

“I’m not going until you…” John had to stop as a searing pain shot through his head, forcing him to bend over in agony. That face...he had seen that face somewhere, he knew it. It was a face he wasn’t supposed to trust but how did he know that? “I’m fighting through.” That wasn’t his voice. It was angrier and stronger and...alien. “You should be very afraid right now, Dream Lord.” The voice disappeared almost as quickly as it had come, leaving John in a delirious state. The Dream Lord, now extremely worried that his plans were breaking down, shoved John out of the door and quickly locked it, pulling down the metal shutters. So what if he lost a day of business? That was the price he had to pay to stay alive. All he could think about was the man currently crouched down in front of his little shop on the high street, whose mind felt like it was burning.


	18. Pleading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those in the fake reality suffer the consequences of the barriers deteriorating

Ryan strolled through the campus square with a small smile on his face, his rucksack lazily slung over his shoulder. Trees lined the path he was taking, separating him from the neatly trimmed squares of grass that made the university feel more rural than it actually was. He stared up at the oaks (were they oaks? He naturally presumed that all the trees he saw were oaks because he didn't really know any others), admiring the red tinge that coloured them as autumn settled around them. A squirrel scurried across one of the branches and, for one moment, he was worried that it would jump onto him and he’d have to take evasive measures. Thankfully, the little animal paused to stare at him before continuing along, leaving Ryan on his own. Lonely, once again. He noticed a group of students sitting in a circle on the grass, possibly having a picnic from the looks of things (personally, he felt it was far too cold to be doing that but he wasn’t about to ruin their fun) He wasn’t too fussed about not having many people to hang out with, not after his conversation with Bella. She had made it seem that there were plenty of other people like him, in the same position. Looking through a window, admiring a different sort of life. The fact that she was in that group too was something that astounded him but he guessed that, if you weren’t confident, then it was likely that you’d been forced in the past to  _ act  _ confident. Maybe he should give it a try, approach that group on the grass having the picnic that wasn’t suitable for the weather, and ask if he could sit with them. No. That was never going to happen. 

He didn't feel nearly as lonely in this massive place since he’d met Bella, the young woman that had been occupying his thoughts nearly constantly. Not always like  _ that _ , although there certainly had been a few occasions when the thought had crossed his mind. Why wouldn’t it? She was gorgeous and funny and obviously intelligent, the trifecta of personality traits. He supposed he was sometimes funny so he had at least one of the three at a push. They’d been spending time with one another when their timetables allowed it, although they were usually in different lectures when the other was free. Yet, the few moments they’d shared had felt like a god-send to Ryan, who had really needed to know that there was one friendly face waiting for him when he arrived every day. There was Doctor Clara Oswald, of course, but it was definitely not the done thing to hang out with your tutor, no matter how friendly they were. Ryan felt like he could also open up to Bella, which he had only ever really done with his nan. His mum should have taken that role but her premature death had left a gaping void there, especially with his dad unable to step up to the mark. He even felt slightly awkward discussing things with Graham so having a friend to confide in had been a remarkable discovery and one he was extremely grateful for.

Did he have a lot to confide though? He wasn’t that interesting. He’d brought up his dyspraxia once with her, which had been a massive step for him to take. Other than that, did he have anything to say? He doubted that she enjoyed basketball and Ryan didn't want her to think he was just another male obsessed with sport with no other hobbies. There had been the dreams though, the ones that only came at night when his brain was completely shut off. Extraordinary adventures that were fundamentally impossible. When he woke up, he would have vague memories of them but they would slowly slip away as the day progressed. But they always seemed to return, slightly different from the previous escapades but still fundamentally linked. And the frequency he had been experiencing them was increasing too, a worrying thought. It had started off one night and he hadn’t thought much of it. A week passed with nothing amiss then they had returned for two consecutive nights, which had understandably caught his attention. For a few days, they had disappeared again, making him believe that maybe they had never happened in the first place. But now it was every night and he spent the first few moments in a morning trying his hardest to remember every detail, trying to connect the last ones to the new. There was definitely a common thread running through them, a time machine, but he still didn't know whether they meant anything or if they were simply just wild dreams that everyone tended to have. Yet why did he feel like, with the dreams, there was someone trying to shout at him, make him wake up? There was an urgency there, for sure, but why? 

Because of this strange phenomenon, Ryan hadn’t been sleeping properly. In lectures, that meant he often found himself not concentrating properly, instead using the monotonous tones of whatever professor it was to soothe himself to sleep. In group sessions, it was usually the case that he didn't have the energy to participate and join in properly and he felt something needed to change before he wasted the opportunity he’d made for himself. The lack of sufficient sleep was also the explanation for why he didn't notice Bella approaching him from behind, a mischievous grin on her face.

“You look like a zombie,” she called out, startling him. His wide eyed expression made her laugh as she gripped his shoulders to balance him. Her touch made his skin feel electrified but that might just have been down to the way his heart was pounding after her startling appearance. “Seriously...you’re walking like you don’t really know you’re here. Are you okay?” 

Ryan was surprised by how genuinely concerned she was and it was a great feeling to know he had someone on his side like that. “I was just...lost in thought.” Even he didn't think it was a very convincing answer, but there was no way he was about to divulge to her what he was going through at night. He wasn’t going to scare off the one friend he had at the university.

“So there is a brain inside that head of yours. That’s news to me,” she teased gently, smiling still.

Ryan tried to look offended at her comment but couldn’t keep himself from smiling. He nudged her gently as they started walking together. “I’ll have you know that I can be very clever when I want to be. I just don’t normally want to, in case I make everyone else look bad. Got to keep their morale up and everything.”

“Are you including me in ‘everyone’, Sinclair?” Bella asked with a dangerous glint in her eyes. Ryan wasn’t sure whether it was out of the realm of possibility that she would pounce on him with that look on her face and he found himself not knowing whether that would be a good or bad thing.

“Of course not,” he answered wisely, taking the safe route. “You’re above and beyond everyone else, all of the students know that. Even the professors but they’re not allowed to openly say it. They’re not allowed favourites...but I certainly am.”

She raised an eyebrow as she looked at him and Ryan was sure that he saw a blush colour her cheeks. He’d never seen her blush before and he had to admit that it was adorable. “Ryan Sinclair, are you flirting with me?”

“You’re always flirting with me!” he countered defensively, not answering the question skillfully, although she saw right through his ploy.

“Are you complaining?” They had both stopped walking, the two of them more interested in this potentially important conversation. He wasn’t an expert on the fairer sex but Ryan was almost confident that she had a hopeful look in her eyes.

“...no,” he answered truthfully, staring at her. Why did he feel like a little teenager confessing his feelings to his first crush? Probably because he had never had a proper girlfriend before, something Graham had teased him for and Grace had commended him for.

Bella smiled once again, brighter this time. It might have been the most genuine smile he had seen from her. No cheekiness or mirth, pure unadulterated joy and it was at that point that he realised he had something he didn't want to mess up. “Good,” she whispered happily as she took his arm, the pair walking again now the partial confessions were over with. “I can’t remember the last time we managed to have so much time together uninterrupted. We normally have hectic schedules and you still haven’t invited me around to your house.”

“Trust me, my nan would adore you and that’s why I’m avoiding it. Because she’d go on about how lucky I am and how I need to make sure I treat you right, the whole shebang.” He grimaced in a mock fashion, eliciting a brief laugh from Bella. “The last time we got to hang out carefree was probably that time where I had the accident with the vending machine.” He was surprised when she gave him a sceptical look, even though he knew she had been involved in that story. “You know...at that big spa. Wait...that’s not right. When would we have ever gone to a spa together?”

“Are you sure you’re not mistaking me with another girl?”

“No!” he immediately answered, not wanting her to think he was like that. “No, trust me, you’re the first girl...I mean, woman, you’re a woman, definitely a woman...that I’ve grown close to. I think my brain was just malfunctioning.”

“You’re a weirdo, you know that right?” she said with a laugh and Ryan nodded his head, fearing that something definitely weird was going on.

**********

After his altercation with the estate agent and the strange ramifications that had had, the last thing John had really wanted was to have a date night with Clara. That was the wrong thing to think, he knew that. He understood how incredibly lucky he was that she wanted to spend a substantial amount of time with him and he had the sense that, if anyone could help him through this unusual situation, then it was her. However, the voice that had come through just before he’d been removed from the shop had struck a fearful chord with John and it had unearthed even more memories that were strictly impossible. The visions he’d been having were clearer now and he could envisage faces better, including Clara’s. Whoever had been speaking, whoever owned these memories that couldn’t be his, they held the woman he loved in high esteem. It was almost as if the thoughts had been coloured through rose tinted spectacles, every moment centred around her, focusing on. The memories, although they detailed different adventures that he didn't have the time or mental capacity to get through, were always about her. Had she been lying to him this entire time? Was she living a completely different life? Was she an alien? Because they had definitely been in space for the most part. The fact that he was glossing over that part, when space travel was only possible in science fiction, told him how messed up this all was. John didn't want to jump to any conclusions, knowing that it was just as likely that she was as clueless as to what was going on as he was, but he knew that, if he spent too much time with Clara in this state, he was bound to bring it up, confronting the truth, if it was the truth. 

The possibility of him messing up this relationship, the greatest thing to happen to him in his life, was a fate he didn't want to think about. He wasn’t just scared about this different reality where he was another man with the same face; in truth, he had been plagued with thoughts about it so much that its impact had been lost, or at least diluted, to a degree. John was terrified that it would cause him to lose Clara, which had already delayed him from talking to her about it in the past. Regretting what was likely to happen that evening, he sat on her sofa with his head in his hands, his fingers running through his silvery curls. He was rather close to ripping it all out. His demeanour was a stark contrast to his girlfriend (he still felt weird calling her that but society hadn’t come up with a better alternative. Maybe ‘partner’ was a better fit, although that made him feel like they were characters in a Western). Clara was dancing around her kitchen as she cooked, singing along to a Spotify playlist full of cheesy songs that she would let no one else see her enjoying. 

She had been overjoyed to see John when he’d arrived, even though they had planned the date night in advance. He had been acting extremely strangely recently, for what reason, she didn't know. What had hurt her the most was that she had come to believe it was her own doing, having made some sort of mistake without him realising. Clara wasn’t one to get bogged down by negative emotions, channelling them into a strong resolve to find out the cause of the sudden shift in his behaviour. She was more annoyed at him for not talking about it openly, no matter what the problem was. They could fix it, she was sure of that. Clara was making her favourite pasta dish, something simple but inexplicably tasty. She wanted to put him in a good mood, to increase her chances of making him open up. John wasn’t the sort of man to express his feelings easily but she wanted him to know that he always  _ could _ when he was alone with her. They were together after all, a team. Nothing he could say would change that. 

With everything that needed to be in the oven cooking away, Clara tore off her apron and hurried back over to John, jumping over the sofa to startle him. He clutched his chest in fright, more in aspiration at the laugh she was now letting out at his expense. She was clearly very happy about getting one over him, the competitive edge to their relationship coming to the surface. John smiled warmly at her, albeit slightly nervously, as she rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a long beat, revelling in the companionable silence. It was something neither of them had expected coming into this, finding someone where you could spend time with them without saying a single word and still enjoying it immensely. They didn't have to make up conversation all the time; knowing that they had each other close was enough for them most of the time.

Clara grinned as she looked up at him, reaching up to peck him on the lips. John swept away a tendril of hair that had come out of place, obscuring her face, something which should have been a crime. Nothing in the universe was allowed to stop him from seeing her beauty.  _ Universe _ . That wasn’t a phrase he would normally use. Ordinary people would say ‘world’ or ‘on Earth’, not ‘universe’. Was his brain really malfunctioning or was he overthinking things? Every little thing he did, he was analysing it, wondering if it was another sign of something going wrong with him. 

She didn't seem to notice the war going on behind his eyes. “So, everything is in the oven. It won’t be long now. I hope you’re hungry because I have the tendency to make more than I need.”

John chuckled at her comment. “I’ve never been one to complain about there being too much food. We can call it supper, if you want me to spend the night.” He winked playfully at her and, despite all the time they’d shared and how intimate they’d grown to be, Clara couldn’t help the blush spreading across her cheeks. He knew exactly what he was doing, enjoying teasing her.

“It’s good to see that you’re feeling better,” she said, stroking his chest softly as she gazed up at him.

Something in his expression changed, immediately going on the defensive. “What do you mean by that? I haven’t been ill in ages. Actually, I can barely remember being sick in my childhood.” Why could he never properly look back on his younger years - they were always a grey blur, something else that had grown to bug him.

Clara sat up straighter, guessing they were going to talk about it sooner than she’d expected. “Come on, you know what I’m getting at. Recently...you’ve been acting rather distant. I mean, you’ve still been talking to me and everything but...it’s been different. Like your mind isn’t really there. Did you expect me to not notice? I do pay attention, thank you.”

John let out a low sigh. “I’ve just had things to consider the last couple of weeks, nothing for you to worry about.”

“If that’s the case, then why wouldn’t you talk to me about it? I want to help you in any way I can, John. Surely you’ve learnt that by now. And I’d hope you feel the same way towards me.”

He stared into her eyes warmly and lovingly. “Of course I do. I want to always be there for you. But...it’s just difficult to put into words, in a way that wouldn’t want to make you run away and never speak to me again.”

“I’m pretty certain that that’s not going to happen,” Clara laughed, playfully hitting him on the arm. “Unless you’re a serial killer. Then I’m probably going to have to take offence at that.”

John looked at the floor sadly and, for a second, she thought he might actually be a mass murderer. His expression was unreadable when he met her eyes again. “I’ve been having visions. Mainly when I try to sleep but increasingly during the day as well. And you’re involved in them.”

Clara instantly jumped to the conclusion that they were visions of a  _ certain _ nature, which she couldn’t really begrudge him. She actually found herself wanting to know what was involved in these visions. “Well, that’s perfectly natural. We’re together...intimately...so I’d fully expect you to think about it.”

“Nothing like that!” he quickly intervened, not wanting to get stuck in that rabbit hole. “No, somehow it’s even weirder. I dream about us...flying through space in a box that is bigger on the inside. We fight aliens and save the day and we really love the running.”

“That doesn’t sound bad at all. You just have a wild imagination. Trust me, as an English teacher, I commend you for having that trait. Most people try to squash any they have to fit in.”

“But that’s the thing. I don’t think it’s my imagination...I really think that it’s all real. A different world where we actually come from. All of this…” He paused to gesticulate wildly at the room around them. “It’s not real, a fantasy created by those other versions of us. I don’t understand completely why they would do that but I just can’t ignore it anymore.”

Clara shifted slightly away from him, a move that he picked up on. “That’s certainly...an interesting perspective.”

“It’s not a perspective!” he said loudly, standing up abruptly in frustration. “It’s the reality we’re facing. No one in this world is real and I’m imploring you to try and see that. I’ll get on my knees and beg and plead because I can’t go through this on my own any longer.”

“Okay, John...you’re officially scaring me now,” Clara said warily.

He ran his hands through his hair exasperatedly. He needed a way to show her where he was coming from, a seemingly impossible task, but he then realised there was a possibility. John rushed over to her drawers and rummaged through, prompting Clara to follow angrily as she saw the mess he was making. Before she could complain, he pulled out the photo album they had been looking at the other day. He flicked through the photos before he came to the one he was looking for, thrusting it towards her face.

“What do you notice about this picture?” He was slightly annoyed when she gave him a nonplussed shrug, although he realised she was doing better than he’d expected. “The doll house behind you. It’s exactly the same as the one you showed me, the one you dream of buying. Same colours, same features, ripped right from your childhood. I think that whoever put those people here may have used it as a trap, or maybe they designed it themselves as a reminder as to what’s going on.”

“It’s just a strange coincidence. You hear about them all the time on the internet.” Clara’s voice though was unsure as she continued to stare at the photo. She placed a hand on her forehead as she felt a dull pain rising up. It grew in size until her head was throbbing. Clara dropped the photo album to the floor and staggered away from John, trying to keep a large distance between them. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me but I want you to stay away. Did you put something in my drink?”

John looked aghast at the very thought that he’d do something like that. “Clara, I would never want to hurt you. What you’re going through, that’s a good sign, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve been going through the same thing, don’t worry. That throbbing...it’s your brain trying to cope with the information.”

She looked at him fearfully but allowed him to approach, almost falling into his arms. “What’s happening to me?”

“I think you’re finally learning the truth.”

**********

“I want answers!” Jo yelled, angry and afraid. The two women had been staring at one another in a state of pure shock for a long period of time, trying to process what had just happened. Jo had spoken but with a different voice...yet it was the same. Even trying to make sense of it was impossible. How could it not be her voice yet definitely be hers? She needed a drink, one of the alcoholic variety hopefully, and a sit down. She hadn’t been consciously thinking when she’d spoken. It had felt like an out of body experience, looking down on herself as she reassured Yaz. Jo slumped onto the sofa, her face in her hands, which were shaking enough as it was. There was no medical explanation for what was happening and it was usually her knowledge that helped her cope with things - find the rational cause of a problem and then you could deal with it, that was normally her thought process. Why was science abandoning her now when she needed it most? And why had it only just started when she’d come to check on Yaz? She had been in the best of health until stepping foot in this apartment. She wasn’t one to jump to conclusions but it did make it seem a little suspicious. 

“I don’t have any answers for you,” Yaz responded sadly, still standing. She was wringing her hands nervously as she watched Jo struggle. All she wanted to do was help her, as she had tried to do for her by coming here in the first place. For some reason, Yaz hadn’t been scared in the slightest when the slightly altered voice came out of Jo’s voice. It was strange but she had...overjoyed when she’d heard it, as if she felt like the sound was a sign of hope. A thought deep inside of her mind, tucked away, was telling her that she trusted that voice, that she depended on whoever had that voice, that she wanted to spend the rest of her life hearing it. She wanted to feel sorry for Jo for what she was apparently going through but the selfish part of her was actually quite happy that she had someone else to help find an explanation to whatever was ailing them. If Jo was beginning to see the same sort of visions that had been tormenting her mind, then that meant she wasn’t alone in this. It gave her a renewed belief that there was a way out of this and it also told her that, perhaps, she wasn’t as damaged as she had initially suspected. How long had she thought that of herself? Too long, whatever the answer.

“I...can see things,” Jo whimpered, forcing herself to look at the other woman. “You were talking about visions. Inexplicable things, living a life that can’t be true. Did they involve a blue box?”

Yaz nodded her head encouragingly. “You don’t know how good it is to hear you say that.” When she saw the expression Jo gave her for that ill timed comment, she bit her lip in apology. “Sorry. Poor choice of words. But you could see how frightened I was that something was going wrong with my mind. If it’s affecting someone like you, who’s brilliant and intelligent, then maybe it’s not as bad as I first thought.”

“Or we’re just both in big trouble and we’re going down together,” Jo pointed out bitterly, hating herself for saying it when Yaz had been trying to put a positive spin on things.

“Well, yeah...that’s also a possibility but look at it like this - there’s no one else I’d rather go down with.” She sat next to Jo, gently bumping her shoulder into her. They stared into each other’s eyes for a short moment, almost forgetting the pain they were going through, one another acting as a liferaft for the other, guiding them through the storm. “Although that does sound a bit wrong out of context so let’s not get stuck in that mindset.”

“Am I an alien?” Jo asked, a question she had never expected to utter. She had said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that it almost made her burst out in laughter but she knew that, if she started, she might not stop. “These memories...that version of me...she’s not human! That’s impossible. Aliens don’t exist and they certainly don’t look like me!” She shook her head violently, as if the motion would get rid of the thoughts through sheer force. “No, I won’t believe it. It’s a...hallucination or something like that. Maybe we both accidentally took drugs. That happens, right? It does in the tv shows sometimes. Yeah, it’s got to be that. Because...otherwise...then I’m not  _ me _ . I wouldn’t exist if this is true but I do!” She pounded her chest to symbolise that, how her physical presence surely meant there was no other possibility. “How can someone have experienced two completely different lives?”

“Perhaps...we haven’t. Maybe one life is a mirage, a smoke screen.” Yaz hardly knew how she was able to come up with a remotely plausible explanation. Was that a side effect of seeing the other version of herself? Did that woman know things about this kind of stuff? “This could all be a dream and this is just us waking up. We do that all the time so it might not be that scary a prospect.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jo said bitingly. “Why does that life have to be the one that’s real? Why can’t that one be the dream and we’re just...remembering it from our sleep.” There were tears stinging her eyes as she looked at Yaz, clinging onto her as if she were trying to tether herself to this reality. If she let go, would she just float away? “This is my life. My true life. You can’t just take that away from me. Everything I am would disappear, replaced by whoever that other woman is because it certainly isn’t ME!” Jo hid her face again, sobbing. 

Yaz slid closer to her, wrapping her arms around her. A few moments ago, she had been the one struggling, contending with the same thoughts as Jo. The realisation had come with self-doubt, with the memories making her question whether her life had actually been pointless. Jo was going through the same things now, those identical thoughts eating away at her, and Yaz had to be there for her this time. “I don’t want to take your life away. We’re jumping to conclusions. The fact that we’re even having this conversation is ludicrous is the first place. You need to know that I think that you are the greatest person I have ever met and nothing will change that. Somehow, I know that other Yaz feels the exact same way. If we lose this reality, at least we’ll still have each other.”

“What if that other me is a horrible person? She could be rude or closed off. She could be dangerous or cold-hearted.”

Yaz smiled warmly. “This is you we’re talking about here. Whatever reality or universe we’re in, you would never allow yourself to be those things. You’re too kind and full of hope. That smile of yours could light up any room and I won’t allow even this to take that away from you. Give me a smile and I’ll know I can do this.”

Jo lifted her head up and, for a second, Yaz thought she was going to do just that, believing that they could get through this. But then she bolted, standing up quickly and heading for the door. Yaz tried to follow, grabbing at her arm, but Jo shrugged her off. “I’m sorry but this is too much to deal with. You’re talking as if this is actually real and that’s impossible. I need time to think about this. It’s too much to handle all at once.” She reached for the door handle and Yaz decided to allow her to leave, knowing it had taken the very same thing to help her comprehend the situation. But when Jo opened the door, there was no corridor that greeted her. There was no Clive, the maintenance manager of the building, who should have still been waiting for her. There was only darkness. An endless void that stretched on forever. The two of them shared a frightened look as Jo slammed the door shut. They ran to the windows and, where there had been a bright sun in the sky and a bustling city below just a moment ago, there was only the same deadly expanse of nothingness that greeted them.

“What’s...what’s happening?” Jo choked out, hastily gripping Yaz’s hand tightly. “Are we dreaming again?”

Yaz looked at her forlornly. “I...don’t know. This feels different.” She paused as she thought she heard someone else, another voice in the room.

“...reality...breaking...down,” the voice said as it echoed around the room. It was the same one that had come through Jo’s mouth. “...the...barriers...are...failing.”

“...does that...mean...we’re...waking...up?” This time it was Yaz’s voice that floated around the room, the one that was more assured and confident. 

“Yaz…” Jo said softly by her side. “That’s us two. How are we speaking in two different places? How’s that possible? What does that mean?”

“I think it means it’s the end of the world.”


	19. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two Tardis teams finally meet in the real world but have they truly escaped the Dream Lord's clutches?

All around them, the Tardis console room, which had been devoid of life and colourless, suddenly brightened, returning to its normal golden hue. The ship had been silent for so long that it was strange to hear its energy restored, the usual beeps and noises whirring around them as if the machine was celebrating. It was so full of wonders that none of them would put that past it. The Doctor’s smile was just as bright as the large room now, watching her old friend get her strength back. It was one of the few positive signs they’d had so far so she was ready to run around and cheer. For some reason, she looked towards Yaz and wanted to swing her about in joy. She had done it before with previous companions so why did it feel so different and...nerve-wracking? Yaz’s eyes, so sparkling and vibrant, seemed to tell her that she would enjoy it too so why did she focus on the console instead, hiding her face and shrouding herself in the mechanics of the situation, like she so often did? Emotions were not her forte, possibly even worse than her previous incarnation and that was saying something.

The Fam staggered around having just woken from their dream state. This time, it had felt like a completely different experience, like they had been ripped straight from that other reality. There was no divide between what they had just been doing in one life and what they were seeing and experiencing in the Tardis now. It was enough to give them all headaches, even though they took it as a good sign - if things were changing, that could only be for the better, surely. Because it was impossible to think that things could get any worse. Graham clutched onto Ryan as he got his bearings back, his legs feeling like jelly. Yaz was instantly drawn to the Doctor, feeling like she needed to be near the other woman for some reason. Was that an after shock of how they had departed the fake world or was it her true emotions getting the better of her? It was difficult at times to tell and she didn't really know if she wanted to find out in the first place. It was always nicer to fall into the bliss of ignorance rather than facing the harsh truth.

The Doctor placed a hand on the time rotor, closing her eyes for a moment as she enjoyed the warmth emanating from it. “I’ve missed you, old girl,” she whispered affectionately. “I almost thought I was going to lose you. Can’t be having that. I don’t know what I’d do without you really. I’d have to hitchhike across space because I definitely couldn’t stay in one place, not again. Sure, I did hitchhike once around the Gerudan Nebula and I met some  _ amazing _ people but there’s nothing that compares to you.”

“Doc,” Graham said, finally regaining the majority of his balance, although he was still clutching to one of the pillars just to be safe. “I’m taking it as a good sign that the Tardis seems to be getting better. Or is this actually some form of reverse psychology by that Dream Lord to get our hopes up?”

“It’s a very good sign,” she enthused, turning to face them with a grin on her face. 

Yaz always loved how the sides of her mouth crinkled when she did that. She shouldn’t have really been thinking about that at that precise moment but it felt like she was going through two sets of emotions, the minds of the two versions of her melding together; that love she usually felt was doubled in its ferocity and it was almost too much to bear. She put a brave face on as she didn't want to ruin this happy moment, one they had been waiting for. 

Unaware of Yaz’s current predicament, the Doctor pressed on, always enjoying the time when she could explain complicated things. “Because our other selves have started realising that all is not what it seems, the forces that bind that distorted reality together are weakening, which, in turn, means the power the Dream Lord has is weakening. Since he was using some of that power to meddle with the Tardis, he’s had to siphon that off just to keep things running. One last desperate act of survival but it means we have full functionality back.”

“And because those bonds are weakening, that’s why we’ve already come back here?” Ryan summarised, feeling quite proud that he was able to wrap his head around it rather quickly. 

“Precisely! Gold star to Ryan! The barriers between the two dimensions are wafer thin at the moment. It just took one big push to get through them.”

“And how did we do that?” Graham asked. “Give that final push? How did we remember our actual lives? Because I don’t remember doing that.”

“I think I was starting to suspect something wasn’t right,” Ryan answered. “But it was just a sense, something in the back of my head telling me to open my eyes. I was nowhere near figuring it out.”

“Well, I have to give plaudits to Yaz for that. She fought the hardest against the constraints, allowing me to batter my way through.” The Doctor smiled warmly at the woman in question, who meekly returned the gesture. “It must have been difficult, going through that on her own but it means we’re here now. Like I’ve said before, she’s properly brilliant, our Yaz.” She continued to look at her friend, slowly realising that something was wrong. Yaz, her head throbbing, was forced to sit down on one of the steps, the others immediately concerned, surrounding her. The Doctor dropped to her knees to be on her level, staring into her eyes. “What’s wrong, Yaz? Are you okay?” Her voice was full of concern and fear and it felt like both of her hearts were beating out of her chest.

“My...head,” Yaz whimpered, closing her eyes to relieve some of the discomfort. “It hurts. I’ve never felt anything like this.”

The Doctor slowly waved the sonic screwdriver across her forehead, frowning at the results that came up. “Your brain is trying to process both sets of lives you believe you’ve had. Every emotion is being channelled through your neural cortex and that’s not supposed to happen. It could overload with the amount of information it’s receiving, like when a computer has to shut down. I’m lucky that it hasn’t happened to me because I’m used to dealing with past lives. Practice makes perfect.”

“Can you help her though?” Graham asked worriedly. The whole situation was making him fully realise how important the young woman had grown to be to him and the fact that he was completely helpless right now, unable to help her when she really needed it, infuriated him.

“Of course I can,” came the much needed assurance. “I’d be willing to do anything to help her.” The Doctor gently grabbed both of Yaz’s hands. “You need to focus on me, Yaz. Do you understand? You’re going to close your eyes but I’m still going to be right next to you. You’ll feel my presence inside your head and I know that might be a bit disconcerting but it’s the only way. I’m going to take some of the burden of those emotions away from you, ease the pressure on your head.”

Yaz shook her head, which only made the pain worse. “No, you can’t. I don’t want to cause you any pain. I can deal with this.”

“Yasmin Khan, seeing you like this is already too much pain to handle. I’ll be fine. Now, relax your mind. You trust me, don’t you?”

The companion immediately nodded her head in the affirmative, needing no time to ponder the question. It should have been terrifying how easy the answer came, how important the Doctor was to her. The Time Lord closed her eyes too as she pressed her forehead against Yaz’s. It was such an intimate moment that the two boys almost felt uncomfortable watching but knew that they needed to be assured that they were both okay. As soon as she was in Yaz’s mind, targeting the big thoughts and emotions that were troubling her the most, the Doctor was bombarded with an onslaught of feelings. She could see images of herself from Yaz’s viewpoint, from their shared victories to their low points. Always so focused on her. There were some memories from her past, growing up and working as an officer. It was difficult to tell which came from one life and which came from the other. There were some parts that she felt she shouldn’t watch, dark memories that were locked away, guarded fiercely. Instead, the Doctor directed herself towards the nexus of the problem, reaching out to the centre. There was an explosion of colour as she was overcome with pure emotions, a burning love and desire that did its best to take her breath away. She couldn’t comprehend why there was an abundance of such feelings but then it slowly dawned on her. Everywhere she looked, there were memories of the two of them together. Flying in the Tardis, running from disaster, laughing in private. Their shared kisses in the other world, the moment they had bumped into each other, when they had been unexpectedly reunited. There was a golden glow around all of it, as if they were prized possessions. The Doctor couldn’t understand how she had been so blind to it, so stuck in the thought that no one could, or should, care for her in that way.

When they eventually parted, there was a moment when they simply just stared at one another. The Doctor’s expression was unreadable as Yaz looked at her, whose own demeanour conveyed how she knew what had just transpired, what secrets had just been unearthed. She felt vulnerable and exposed, worried that this would have drastically changed things. She should never have let her do this, no matter how painful it had been. At least now the throbbing had greatly subsided. It was just her heart that was left aching.

“Does that feel better?” the Doctor asked, finding her voice. It was proving difficult to look the other woman directly in the eye. Had this incarnation always been this shy? Yaz nodded carefully and she wore a small smile in response. That was one crisis averted. But had they just run right into another, one that the Doctor was not suited to dealing with. 

She stood up, helping Yaz to do the same. Graham and Ryan supported Yaz as the blonde alien moved back to the console, a determined look on her face. She pressed an array of buttons, flicking a series of levers at the same time before pulling a final one down. The Tardis shook violently as it groaned, easing its way back to normality.

“Are we going somewhere, Doc?” Graham wondered as the time rotor began to move up and down, the wonderful groaning sound wafting through the air.

“We are. Since we have power back, I thought I may as well use it. If the Dream Lord thinks it’s okay to mess with my friends so much, then I’m going to do exactly the thing he fears the most. We’re going to meet my former self.”

**********

Clara was fed up with waking up with a massive headache and this one felt even worse than the previous ones. She could vividly remember where they had been, in her apartment, John... _ the Doctor... _ trying to make her see the truth. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, although she had the distinct memory that her own, present voice had been shouting somewhere for her to wake up. The other Clara had been so good at ignoring it, stubbornly wanting her reality to be the real one, but she hadn’t been able to hold off this time. It seemed like a different kind of victory this time, as she gently made herself sit up on the console room floor. Because, now, she didn't have the same aching pit in her stomach like the other times, where she would realise that waking up meant she’d lost a man who loved her. Leaving John behind was always a difficult thing to get over but, after the last conversation she and the Doctor had had in the Tardis, Clara couldn’t stop herself smiling. She had always known the Time Lord cared for her in his own  _ unique _ way but she would never have believed he could love her to the same extent as she felt, not in the way she dreamed about. Her grin was almost giddy as she looked around, searching for him, noticing that he was standing by the console, obviously too interested in something to realise she had woken. Some things never changed.

The situation they were in was still bad but Clara believed they were slowly getting an upperhand in proceedings, meaning she could have a little bit of fun. Only a teeny amount, nothing to distract them  _ too  _ much. It was just that...after their heartfelt conversation, they hadn’t been afforded any time to do anything about it, soon dragged right back to the other world, forced to break out of it all over again. She decided it was about time she remedied that, knowing the Doctor would never be the one to instigate anything of the sort. Slowly and quietly, she brought herself further up, using his distraction to her benefit. Trying her best to keep behind the time rotor, understanding how ridiculous she must have looked doing this, she walked around to the side he was on. In essence, she was practically prowling like some wild animal, the Doctor acting as her prey. In a very real sense, that was exactly what he was to her. How he hadn’t picked up on her presence, she had no idea and it was taking a lot of effort not to burst into fits of laughter. 

Eventually, after a ridiculous and slightly insulting amount of time, the Doctor turned his head to look at her, his eyes lighting up at her presence. The smile that lit up his face was bright and pure, so happy to see her, even if they had been together only a few moments ago. What had she done to him? He remembered a time when he was grumpy and cold before he had succumbed to her yet again. “Ah, Clara! It’s about time that you woke up…”

He wasn’t given the opportunity to finish as Clara pounced quickly. Her hands went to the side of his face to draw him closer as she crashed her lips against his in a passionate kiss. She put all of her emotions into, all of the feelings that had been left unsaid for too long, using this one chance to have a first, proper kiss with this face. The Doctor’s brain, in the meantime, had completely shut down at the unexpected turn of events. Sure, he knew what they’d shared previously was a momentous occasion but he hadn’t considered that this was the logical next step. It was a good step, a  _ very _ good step. He was worried that he was out of practice. There had been the kisses as  _ John _ but that felt different to this, fake, like he’d known all along that it wasn’t real because he wanted to experience it himself. Clara had kissed him on the cheek a few times and he’d always got a flutter in his chest at that. In comparison, his hearts had basically exploded the moment he’d felt her lips on his and it was a miracle that he was still alive. The only thing he could really compare it to was when Missy had snogged him, before he had found out it was his oldest friend, which had left him equally as dumbstruck. 

The two of them stood there for what felt like hours, the Doctor soon giving just as good as he got. It was passionate at times, hungry and uncontrollable. There would be moments where they slowed down, savouring the taste. They both had smiles on their faces as they eventually broke apart, suddenly shy and nervous. The Doctor couldn’t quite meet her eyes, using the console to support himself, in fear of falling over from the sensation. Clara was smirking at the effect she’d obviously had on him. He was sputtering, unable to form proper sentences, so much so that she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. It was too enjoyable a sight, especially when she normally couldn’t get him to shut up. 

The Doctor cleared his throat, steadying himself. Had it gotten really warm in here? His cheeks were definitely flushed. “Um...that...was certainly...unexpected,” he managed to see, pretty sure that his voice broke a few times. “You caught me unawares so...well done. No one can normally do that. Although I’ve always known that you’re not just anyone.”

Clara blushed at the compliment, feeling suddenly nervous. “Well...I just thought...we didn't exactly get to do...that before and I wanted to know what it was like. Was it...good?” She winced at the awkward question, worrying that he would see her as some insecure little girl who needed false praise.

He dumbly nodded his head, still processing what had happened and filing it away as one of his more pleasant memories. “Very good. Excellent. Amazing. Um, am I going overboard with the adjectives? I’m struggling to think properly.”

She laughed as she hugged into his side, the Doctor wrapping an arm around her. “I think that’s the best thing you could have possibly said. Well done.” She could feel him let out a breath as she told him that, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Now, what were you up to whilst I was asleep? And why do you always get to wake up first? It’s not fair.”

“You normally get annoyed at me when I bring up my superior Time Lord physiology so I’ll expressly not give that as the explanation.”

She glared dangerously at him although she couldn’t keep it up for too long. “It felt different this time. I remember the other me starting to realise that that world shouldn’t have existed and then I was waking up here. Did that cause it? Did I break through the Dream Lord’s control?”

“I think so, in part. You’re definitely outside of his influence for the time being, which was no mean feat, by the way. You can thank me later.” He paused to wink at her and she rolled her eyes affectionately. “I was trying to pinpoint the exact area of focus that broke down the barriers again and, although you had a large effect, I actually think someone else caused it. Someone else must have figured it too.”

Clara was slightly perturbed that she wasn’t going to get the plaudits she thought she was due but she put it to the back of her mind, knowing that it was no time to be complaining about trivial things. The main thing was that they were out. “Someone from the other Tardis?”

“Precisely. Do you know how I also know that?”

“I’m sure you’re going to prattle on about how brilliant you and how your brain is the best in the universe, or something along those lines. Please, oh great Time Lord of Gallifrey, tell me how you figured it out before I did.”

“...because they sent me a message.” He motioned to a flashing red light on the console. “Look. I thought you’d noticed it.”

Clara felt extremely embarrassed about her small mock-tirade, hiding that feeling behind annoyance. “Well, why didn't you tell me that?”

“Because I wanted to see what you said. And, boy, was it worth it. What was it you called me? Brilliant? The best mind in the universe? You kiss me once and you’re suddenly very complimentary. I could get used to it.”

“Shut up,” Clara growled. “What did their message say?”

“The breakdown in realities have restored power to both Tardises it seems, which means we can travel again. They want to meet us. That’s usually a bad thing to do, meeting yourself, but I have past experience so I shouldn’t cause too much damage.”

“Does this mean that I can meet you as a woman? I’m pretty sure I’ve had a few dreams about that exact scenario.” She grinned broadly at his look of horror.

“We are definitely keeping the two of you apart then,” he said worriedly. “There’s no telling what you could do to the time streams if you were to start flirting with my future self.”

“You’d enjoy it really!” Her smile was triumphant as he pulled down the lever before he could say anything that would get him into trouble.

**********

The sound of the Tardis first flying through the time vortex and then landing with its customary noisy tones had made the Doctor’s hearts swell. It surprised her how much she loved it with every time she heard it, never getting tired of it. A part of her was worried that one day, in the very distant future, she would grow bored of it but that eventuality was an impossibility. Even if she did retire like she’d always said she would, taking up beekeeping and water colours, that noise would always be the soundtrack to her life. Especially now, after being without it for so long, it was the greatest thing in the universe. With the time machine shuddering to a stop, the Doctor raced towards the doors, barely paying any notice to where they had actually ended up. Her Fam followed dutifully behind, only exiting the box when the Time Lord had made it clear it was okay to do so. Yaz was the first one out, as she normally was, sticking close to the Doctor. She was slightly annoyed that they had been thrown into this situation just as they’d seemingly shared a private connection, wishing that she could have a proper conversation with her impossible friend. It would have to wait as they tried to solve an equally daunting problem.

The Tardis had brought them to the top of a hill, a gust of wind heavily swirling around them, blowing their hair about (not in Ryan’s case, which he gloated about through a smug smile in Graham’s direction). The Doctor stuck her finger in her mouth and put it in the air, trying to determine where they were. She then bent down and sniffed at the dew-kissed grass, going as far to try a bit. Her companions rolled their eyes at her unusual antics, having grown accustomed to her eccentricity. The fact that they were used to it now told them that they had probably spent a little too much time with her but they had no plans on leaving any time soon. Instead of focusing on her weird eating habits (they couldn’t remember seeing her eat anything that wasn’t grass or custard creams, which they guessed constituted a balanced diet), they gazed around at their surroundings. They couldn’t see much else, with a thick, grey fog settled just below the top of the hill they were on. It was eerie and daunting but it was at least nice to be outside of the Tardis in the real world. There was still no telling how long they had been cooped up in there. For all they knew, it could have been only a few minutes or possibly a few months.

“Are we back on Earth?” Graham asked, tucking his arms in close to his chest to fight off the biting cold. The place looked distinctly Scandinavian with its mountainous landscape; maybe they had found themselves in Norway for a second time. He did like a good fjord. 

“I don’t think so,” the Doctor answered with a shrug, scrunching her face up like she often did when she didn't know what was exactly going on. “But a decent atmosphere for you lot so there’ll be no chance of your heads exploding or anything.” She ignored their concerned looks that that was a possibility whenever they took a step outside of the blue box. “It’s definitely a planet that’s similar to your home but it would have been a massive stroke of luck if we’d been brought there. The Tardis had her power back, yes, but only enough to get us out of the vortex. I didn't want to waste time or strain her resources by being picky. I programmed her to choose a random planet at her own will and here we are! Now, that’s what I call exciting.”

“You do realise how disastrously wrong that could have gone, right?” Ryan pointed out with wide eyes. “You could have sent us to the planet of the...giant bees or something.”

“Don’t be silly,” the Doctor said as she waved her hand. “Giant bees don’t have their own planet. They migrate through space and form colonies wherever they like. Because no one is going to ask them to leave because they’re...well...giant bees and rather terrifying. Where was I going with this point? I tend to lose track.” She frowned and turned around in a circle to collect her thoughts, triumphantly pointing a finger at them when it came back to her. “Anyway! The Tardis wouldn’t take us somewhere overtly dangerous! She has protocols to follow. I think. It might have changed with the latest console upgrade. I should probably look into that when we’re not busy.”

Yaz knew that she was rambling because she was still worried that things could go wrong. She often attempted to hide her insecurities through boisterous talking and here was another example of that on show. “You said that the Tardis chose this place at random. So surely that means the other Tardis will do the same and go somewhere else.”

“Nah. She’s a clever ship. And I also gave myself the coordinates when I sent the message telling them to follow us. I’ve got things under control. Mostly. As well as I normally do.”

“And what happens when they get here?” Graham wondered. “What’s the point in meeting up? I thought you said that we’d destroyed the other world so surely we can celebrate. I think the kitchens inside have some sarnies I made the other day in the fridge. I could do a buffet for us all!”

“As nice as that sounds, we’re far from being out of this. We caused a lot of damage to the Dream Lord’s reality, that’s true. He had to use up most of his reserve energy to keep sustaining it, which allowed us to regain control of the Tardis. But, knowing him, he’ll have one last trick up his sleeve. He’ll be desperate now, which makes him even more dangerous.” They all gave her concerned looks, wondering how he could be even more menacing than he already had been.

She was about to go into more detail about what that could entail when the wind picked up around them, although, this time, it was from a different source. The same groaning noise filled the air as another tall blue box appeared next to theirs, so obviously the same and yet physically different. They all took a step back as it came into being, waiting for the people inside. It stood there for a few moments until the door swung open, revealing a head of curly grey hair and an owlish face peering at them in a scrutinising fashion. Graham’s eyes widened at the sight, just as Ryan’s did when Clara followed her Doctor out of the Tardis.

“It’s you!” Graham shouted with an accusing finger pointed in his direction. “I’ve met you before!”

“Sandwich guy!” the Doctor returned. He tapped his head. “I know you have a name. All of you humans tend to have that in common. Graham! Why on earth are you here? Well...not strictly earth but wherever  _ this _ is.”

“Um...how do I explain it?” He looked to his Doctor for answers but she seemed to be in a world of her own, no help to him. “I travel with you. In the future. Although I don’t think I should have told you that. The universe is going to explode now, isn’t it?”

“Let’s hope not. But I reckon we’re causing enough trouble by being here in the first place so a few misplaced comments won’t do us too much harm. But if the universe does end, I’ll make sure to tell everyone it was down to you.” The look he was giving Graham didn't make it any easier for the retired bus driver to tell if he was joking. He was certainly a lot more...blunt than the Doctor he’d come to know.

“Doctor Oswald?” Ryan asked, stepping towards Clara. “Is that you? But you’re just a...professor!”

“And so was I! We were all in different capacities in the other world. Please do try to keep up.” The Doctor wiped a hand over his face tiredly, realising that meeting people out of sync was never easy.

“Try and ignore him,” Clara instructed Ryan, giving him a quick hug. “I should have known that you travelled with the Doctor. Well, I should have if I’d had my own memories. You’ve got that attitude he loves. Or...she loves.” Clara looked towards the other Doctor in mild fascination, curiously looking her up and down. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t this. It was as if someone had decided to make the polar opposite of her Doctor. The look she was getting back was unreadable, as if the Doctor had seen a ghost and she hadn’t fully prepared herself for it. It unnerved Clara because it spoke of how they obviously hadn’t seen one another for a long time in her timeline.

The Doctor, controlling her emotions, forgot about the hurt she had been through (or as much as she could) and walked slowly towards her former companion. “Clara Oswald. My impossible girl. You don’t look any different from how I remember you. Even more gorgeous. He won’t have admitted that yet, I’m guessing. I was always so rubbish with emotions back then. Still am. Makes it easier when...it’s very good to see you.” She hugged Clara tightly, not noticing the strange look on Yaz’s face as she watched the intimate interaction.

“You’re not Scottish anymore,” Clara pointed out with a pout. “I always liked that heavy brogue. It was charming when it wasn’t insulting me.”

“I’m still here you know?” the said Scottish Doctor butted in, glaring at the two of them. He stood in front of his future self, looking down at her smaller physique and wondering how it was possible to lose so much height in one regeneration. This was different to when he had met her in their dreamscape. The air was electrified with temporal energy, swirling around them, an explosion waiting to happen. “Doctor.” He bowed his head slightly.

“Doctor,” she returned. “You came.”

“You called. I’ve learnt not to question myself after so many years of not doing that.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” came her response with a roll of her eyes.

“Case proven by you saying that. Aren’t temporal anomalies just the best? Have you planned anything yet? You are the...senior  _ me _ so, really, it’s down to you to take charge.”

She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “I don’t think you really believe that. And, anyway, anyone would think that you’re the  _ senior _ version. Look at me, most would say that I’m actually rather youthful. Regeneration, it’s all potluck. At least you have something to look forward to.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” a tired, disgruntled voice sounded off to the side. “Because I’m still certain that he isn’t going to make this point in time. Thank you for that, Doctors. By coming here, you’ve just added to the paradoxical energy I’ve been using.” The Dream Lord had appeared from nowhere, as he liked to do. His hair was more dishevelled than usual, his outfit crooked and messed up. He looked beaten up, worse for wear. Yet there was still a malicious glint in his eyes.

The two Doctors stood protectively in front of their respective companions, hoping to keep them out of harm’s way. The younger version flared his nostrils in disgust at the sight. “You shouldn’t be here. You’ll destroy yourself, spending too much time in real space. You hardly have any energy left anyway.”

“And here I thought that the two big Time Lords would want to see me destroyed. Why do you hesitate? Or is it that irrational guilt eating away at you, never wanting to lose even the most damaged of souls but always losing someone. It’s enough to break your hearts.”

“What are you doing here?” the other Doctor asked in a low voice.

“Why, I heard that you were all having a nice little reunion and I didn't want to miss out. I also came to tell you that you left some things behind in the other world and it’s time that you collect them. What do the humans call it? Emotional baggage?” Before the Doctors could stop him, the Dream Lord clicked his fingers and the world around them went black.


	20. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone must face their demons, with temptation so easy to give into

When Clara opened her eyes, recovering from the shock of being transported somewhere else (she really should have been used to it by now with how many times it tended to happen), she found herself in a blank, grey void. She was alone, able to move but get nowhere. Everything looked the same, an endless expanse of space that stretched on so much that it was giving her a headache. She wondered whether this was the remnants of the alternate reality, the final atom of existence that was clinging on after it had broken down. It felt different though, a new experience. The clearest indication of that was that she still felt like herself, still had the same memories. This time, her body had been transported along with her mind but she didn't know whether to take a great deal of comfort in that. Did it mean that the Dream Lord had regained some of his powers or did it signal that his abilities had been weakened, since he could no longer separate her consciousness. Every time Clara moved her head, she went through a dizzying experience, as if she was out of sync with the rest of the realm. She tried to think what the Doctor would do, knowing he would do his best to stay calm, at least on the outside. She decided to close her eyes, in the hope that would, at a minimum, reduce the banging in her head.

There was a distinct noise that caught her attention, mainly because it meant that something else had to be there with her. Opening her eyes for a second time, she was relieved to see that the Doctor had appeared, her Doctor. She ran towards him in joy, wrapping her arms around him tightly, stopping herself from kissing him because it was probably too dangerous a situation to be doing  _ that _ . There would be time eventually, when they were back in the Tardis,  _ alone _ . The hug was strange though because the Doctor’s body stayed rigid the entire time. She knew that he didn't enjoy physical contact a great deal but he had certainly improved more than this. Clara pulled away and looked up at his face, noticing how he was simply staring at her. Would she call it a glare? It definitely wasn’t happy, whatever the look signified. His blue eyes followed her as she took a step back, his nostrils flaring. If she was to hazard a guess, she would say that he looked almost...disappointed in her.

“Doctor,” she murmured, her voice seeming to bounce around the void like a broken echo. “What’s wrong? What’s happened to you? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“You,” he said in a calm voice, laced with anger and contempt. “You happened. You chose him over me, after all I did for you.”

Clara shook her head, deathly afraid now. “I...don’t know what you’re talking about, Doctor. Stop it. Stop this now, whatever you’re trying to prove. Whatever trick this is, I want you to put an end to it. Doctor, you’re scaring me and I know that, above all else, you would never want to do that to me. Not you.”

“After everything I showed you,” he continued, either ignoring her pleas consciously or proving deaf to them. “I showed you the universe but that wasn’t enough, was it?” He pointed a finger at her suddenly, making her back away further. “I saved you! I saved you from a pointless life, a meaningless existence. I gave you a purpose but you want to throw that away. Do you hear how selfish that sounds? After all we’ve been through...you betrayed my trust, the very foundations that we’d built a relationship upon...do you think I could ever forgive you for that? All because you chose  _ him _ .”

She was crying now, unashamedly. “Who’s  _ him _ ?” she cried, wishing for nothing more than to be able to run away. “I don’t know who you’re talking about!”

“Me,” a soft, broken voice said as another man appeared. The same man, the same face, just dressed differently, giving off a different energy. It was John, dressed in the odd suits that he always chose for work. How was it possible that she was seeing him now? Clara thought she had left him behind in the other universe, no more than a figment of her imagination now. But he was standing right next to the Doctor, physically in front of her, there was no denying that. “But he’s wrong. You didn't choose me. You left me behind to die. I believed in you. You gave me a new lease of life. And then you took it all away from me without a second thought because the more exciting option returned. What does that say about you? How would that make me feel?”

“No,” she wailed, wiping furious tears away from her cheeks. “John, no. It’s not like that. You...you weren’t real. I didn't have a choice to make.”

“I’m not real?” he asked in a low whisper before his expression turned dark. “How can you stand there and see me and yet still believe that? I’m real!” He pounded his chest with every word he said now, each sentence bringing him closer, spittle escaping from his body. “I’m real! You brought me to life and now you want to kill me. Admit it, Clara. Own your actions, realise your mistakes. You did this to me. You gave me hope and now you crush it like a bug! I’m real! I’m real! All you have to do is make me real, believe that I am, then we can live together like we promised we would. Or was that just another lie that you sold to me? How many deceptions have you hidden behind during our time together?”

“Do you know what I would do if I lost you?” the Doctor now said. “I would destroy... _ everything _ . I would rain down on the universe a might that has never been seen before, all to try and bring you back to me. The Daleks, the Cybermen, the Sontarans...I’d use them all if I had to. Would you be able to make that decision to leave me and know that all that destruction would be on your conscience?”

“That’s not you. You would never do that. The moment you saw a child cry, the anger would end and the war would cease.” Clara shook her head again, repeatedly denying that any of this was true. She felt another presence behind her but didn't look, instinctively knowing who it was. 

The Dream Lord put his hands on her shoulders, a smile on his face. “Clara, Clara,” he tutted playfully. “Just look at what effect you have on these men. You’re going to have to disappoint one of them at least but which one? Go on, look one of them in the eye and tell them you don’t love them. I want to see their hearts break, I want to see you acknowledge that all you’ll eventually bring them is pain. It’s not too late. You can save them but you have to make the choice. Clara’s choice. Do you go for the man that saved you or the man that you saved? But, then again, which one is which?”

**********

Graham stumbled when he felt a different ground beneath his feet, only just keeping his balance. He risked opening his eyes, wishing he hadn’t done so when he saw where they were. Or where they weren’t because it didn't seem like any place that could actually exist. It almost felt like an out of body experience, Graham trying to tell his mind that it wasn’t real, that it was yet another trick being played on him, that he was going to wake up any second and the Doctor would explain it all in a way that would make it even more confusing. He was only stopped from properly panicking when Ryan appeared next to him, just as dazed as he currently was. He moved to support him and, once his grandson had gotten his bearings, Graham pulled him into a tight hug, just as much to reassure himself as to comfort Ryan. He didn't even want to start thinking about how it was possible for someone to appear so suddenly like that (he’d done it a couple of times now, including the time he’d just been about to have some cake), or why he wasn’t really surprised by it anymore.

“Oh, you have no idea how good it is to see you here,” he said as they pulled apart. “Well, I don’t know what sort of danger we’re in so maybe I don’t actually want you here. I’m getting tired of seeing you in trouble.”

Ryan rubbed his forehead with a wince. “Because you never get into tricky situations,” he commented sarcastically. “You need to stop worrying about me. At least we have each other right now.” He looked around the grey void, appearing to only just comprehend where they’d been taken. “Do you remember what happened? My head is banging...feels like I’ve been body slammed or something.”

“I’ve got no clue. The last thing I can think of, we were standing on top of that hill with the Doctors, basically just getting acquainted. Or reacquainted might be the more precise term. That man appeared again, the Dream Lord. Then I woke up here. And here I was, thinking that we might have got rid of him for good. Fat chance of us being that lucky, hey?”

Ryan nodded his head. “So we’ve been put here by him? For what end? If he could teleport us anywhere, why not back into the other world? It doesn’t make sense. Is it a test or something?”

“Not a test,” a soft voice assured him. He recognised it instantly, his heart filling with dread. Her body came into view after she’d spoken - that should have been the first clue to him that something was wrong but he didn't want to accept it. He stared at Bella in stunned violence. She looked exactly the same as the last time he’d seen her, when he’d first started having doubts about that reality. The same clothes, the same hairstyle, but her expression was different. It lacked the vibrancy of life it normally carried. “An opportunity. So that you can make amends. That’s all that we want.” Ryan had a sinking feeling as to who the ‘we’ included. 

“Hold on, is that the woman from the spa?” Graham asked, turning to the man next to him. “I thought she...died...in that alternate future of earth.”

“When has death ever had to be a barrier?” another voice asked and it was Graham’s turn to feel an aching sense of heartbreak. Almost as soon as he saw Grace, his eyes began to well up with tears. How many more times did he have to go through seeing her? How many more times was someone going to use her against him? But, surely, if she kept returning to him, that had to be a sign, that he couldn’t give up on her. “Love, death doesn’t have to be the final chapter. Me and you have seen that enough, that miracles can happen. But you keep choosing to leave me behind. You let me fall in that construction yard, you refused to believe I was real in Norway, and now you’re doing it all over again. Did I do something wrong for you to make these decisions? When did your love turn to hatred?”

“No,” he replied instantly. “Never. You could never do anything to make me hate you.” He could feel his voice breaking. “Even when you took that risk that awful night, I could never bring myself to be angry at you. I see you all the time, wishing that you were there right next to me, seeing the same wonders as me. But that will  _ never _ happen.”

“Who says so? The Doctor? The woman whose arrival signalled my death? It’s okay for her to stick to the rules when she can run away from grief and pain like it never existed but we can’t. We have to embrace that loss but you could use those feelings now and change everything.” 

“And you,” Bella spoke, stepping towards Ryan. “How much guilt do you feel when you see my face? It was you who left me to sacrifice myself when you could have talked me out of it. What was it? Were you too scared to challenge me, too weak? We could have been happy. You could have helped me become a better person. And we were and you did, in that other world, the world I know you prefer. You had everything in that life. You weren’t weighed down by grief, black shadows hanging over your shoulder wherever you looked. You were free to live as you’ve always wanted, supported, loved, with people there for you. How many people have let you down in that so-called  _ real _ world? Your dad abandoned you, your mum and gran were taken from you. How many times have you let yourself down? Right now, you can change that pattern, take a different step. You just have to take my hand and we can leave together.”

“The Bella I knew wouldn’t say any of those things because she would know how we, as people, are shaped more by the losses in life than the gains. I’m a better man for what I went through and I’ll grow even more with whatever faces me in the future.”

“I  _ am _ the Bella you knew, before you let her down. Those losses you speak of...what sort of a universe expects you to make it through so much suffering. The fact that you’re still standing here is a testament to the strength you have inside of you. Now...use that strength to your advantage and win for once.”

“You could have everything,” Grace continued. “We could be the family that was taken from you both. You would still have Yaz, even the Doctor. What do you have to lose?”

**********

When Yaz felt herself transported, knowing that the Dream Lord was behind it all, she’d had an idea of what would face her. The blank void had shaken her to her core though, past memories resurfacing when she had been trapped on her own in the Kasaavin underworld. That feeling of isolation and helplessness bubbled away, making her skin feel scratchy and uncomfortable, but she told herself to breathe and stay calm. She had learnt from that experience and knew that the Doctor had saved her then, which meant she would do the same this time too. Surely. Because Yaz had a burning faith in the Time Lord that she would never let her down. So, when she had seen the Doctor appear in the void with her, she had been overjoyed, believing that they had been tasked to solve another problem together. But then she had looked closer at the other woman and saw just how broken she looked. She looked smaller, weaker, less impressive. Yaz feared that something dreadful had happened in between their apparent teleportations. 

“Yaz?” the Doctor murmured, her eyes appearing to brighten a tiny amount at the sight of her companion. “Is that you? It’s been so long since I last saw you.”

Yaz’s brow creased in confusion. “What are you talking about? We were just with each other. Don’t you remember being on the hill? With the other version of you?” She stepped closer to the Doctor, peering at her in a scrutinising fashion. Her eyes didn't have the same spark, something haunting them. “It’s something that I wouldn’t expect anyone to forget.”

“That was centuries ago.” The admission shocked Yaz deeply and she felt her knees tremble, almost crashing to the floor in despair. That just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. This was just another trick being played on her. She had to remember that but it was so difficult to do so when the evidence was standing right in front of her. “You left me soon afterwards. It became too much for you, too much danger, too much pain. You walked out of the Tardis and took my hearts with you.”

“Well, that’s a lie because I could never do that! I want to see the entirety of the universe with you and I’ll never stop until we visit every planet, every star. Together, me and you, forever. Why would I give that up?”

“Because you had to,” the Doctor sadly replied, looking at the ground that wasn’t really there. “Because this is what always happens. Living with me, it’s dangerous and, more often than not, fatal. You go on about how I save lives but I’ve destroyed just as many. I basically told you to go so that I wouldn’t have to see yet another lifeless corpse with the blood on my hands.” She shrugged Yaz away when she attempted to reach out to cup her face, her expression turning dark. “What did you expect?” The Doctor’s voice had an anger to it now. “Did you really think that this life was sustainable? That we’d be together for the rest of time? That’s not how things work, Yaz, and the sooner you learn that, the better for both of us.” She didn't even seem to care that Yaz had tears in her eyes, which told the younger woman all that she needed to know, that the loss had fundamentally changed her. She was no longer the same person, the woman who travelled the universe with hope in her heart and channelling a message of love.

“It doesn’t have to be that way though,” another voice said behind her and Yaz turned around to see the same face, lighter and brighter. Jo, in her casual clothes, the sort she’d seen her wear a hundred times when they had spent evenings together, revelling in one another’s company. She smiled warmly at her and all Yaz wanted to do was run towards her and forget any of this had ever happened. “The life we were shaping together...that would have been until the end of days. There would have been no threat of us leaving one another because we were brave enough to admit our love. How could you choose a reality over mine, just for someone who is too scared to face her feelings.” They both looked towards the Doctor, whose head was bowed in shame.”

“Me and the Doctor were making progress,” Yaz argued strongly. “We were close. We shared a connection and, even if she didn't...doesn’t...feel the same way...then being with her was good enough for me. Being in her presence, it was the greatest thing in the universe and I’m lucky to have that, no matter how brief it’ll be.”

“And what was I to you then?” Jo wondered. “Was I not good enough? How do you think it makes me feel to hear you say those things? Like I was just another woman. You said you loved me. Was that just a lie? Were you speaking to another woman, that woman, whilst looking at me?”

“I  _ did _ love you. Of course I did. Bumping into you on that street was one of the best things to happen to me, like Fate itself had brought you to me. But you’re the same person! It’s, quite frankly, ridiculous that I’m being put through this. How can I be made to choose between you both?”

“You’ve touched upon something crucial,” Jo said with a hopeful look. “I  _ am _ the same woman. So then why would it be a difficult choice? You can have the life with the Doctor, which would always end in misery and heartbreak for you both. Or you can have the life you built with me. Being respected as an officer and a person, coming home every evening to have a meal with me, falling in love all over again. It wouldn’t be as exciting as wandering around the universe but it would last. We would be happy. After everything you have been through...every trauma that you have overcome...why can’t you just be content with pure happiness? That’s all you’ve ever wanted and it’s all you deserve. The one thing you have to do now is accept that normal life can have the same amount of miracles as what you’ve experienced. I could show you that. If you just step towards me and take my hand.” 

Yaz could hardly fight the urge to reach out her hand, as if her body was being controlled by something else. She could feel the Doctor fading away. Was she doing that? She didn't want to hurt the Doctor so making this choice would mean that future never happened. This was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.

**********

The Doctor looked around his own personal void angrily, stalking in a small circle like a predator ready to pounce. Why had he allowed himself to believe that things would go smoothly? Why had he convinced himself that he could be properly and utterly happy for once? After Clara had kissed him and confirmed her feelings for him, the sentiment that he still thought was entirely impossible...why did he have to be taken from her now? It was frustrating more than anything but it was also terrifying how helpless he felt without her by his side, acting as strong as he pretended to be, frankly being cleverer than him at times. How long had she been with him now? At what point had she become indispensable to him? The most important woman in the universe, the one who kept him centred, the one who reminded him that his efforts were always worthwhile if he continued to try to be a good man. He glared at the emptiness surrounding him, seething, stewing in an anger that he hadn’t succumbed to for a very long time. It wasn’t down to a fear for his own personal safety. He had lost that mentality somewhere in between a regeneration or two. It was the fact that, at that precise moment, Clara was being tormented and tortured just as much as he was, in a place just like the one he found himself in. And he wasn’t about to stand for it.

“I don’t know what you intend to achieve,” he yelled to whoever was watching, to the man he knew was watching. “But you are going to be sorely disappointed. This has gone on for long enough now. End it here and I might just find it within myself to let you walk away.” He was still circling, each loop bigger than the last as he tested how confined he actually was in here. “But that outcome is determined by one simple thing. Clara Oswald survives. Not only must she survive, she must be unharmed. Not even a single strand of her hair shall be out of place when I find her. You understand how much I despise what you are and what you stand for...so do not stoke that fire further if you want to survive.” He waited for a response but none came so he started to walk in a straight line, wondering if he would eventually just escape through sheer force of will.

“I don’t know whether I should be surprised,” a voice said right next to his ear, although there was no one else with him when he spun around. It was unmistakably the Dream Lord’s, mocking him, playing with him, testing his patience. “Hearing you talk like this. You stumble across the universe, allowing everyone you meet to hail you as a hero. But how many of them see you as you are now? Scared...frightened...destructive. All because of a human woman. Of all the things to lose your mind over...you’ve spent too much time on that planet. Would you really rage war because of her? Would she want you to do that? Would she still  _ love _ you if you did that?”

The Doctor wanted to tell him that it didn't matter what she wanted, that she didn't get a say in how far he would go to save her. But he kept it to himself, not wanting to give the Dream Lord the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to him. “Shall we find out?” he asked in challenge, wanting him to appear, not appreciating the fact that he had the upper hand. “Tell me what you’ve done to Clara.”

There was a chuckle that floated through the air; the fact that there was genuine mirth in it made it all the more disgusting. “Now, that wouldn’t be very fun, would it? Where’s the game in that, the element of risk? Let me inform you that I have done nothing to your precious Clara. But I can  _ show _ you what happened to her.”

The Doctor kept on walking, the scenery not changing, until he saw a strange mound up ahead. His hearts sank as he neared, seeing what it was. He could tell it was her body before he saw it completely. Clara lay motionless on the ground, her eyes closed forever. He sank to his knees, collapsing to the floor, as he frantically searched for a pulse. There was nothing, as he’d known would be the case. His cheeks stained with tears, he gently clutched her lifeless body, pulling her close to him, rocking her softly as he sobbed. It was all his fault, that was the worst part. He stared at her face, hoping he could bring her back if he believed hard enough. Maybe he could use some of his regeneration energy. He had some going spare and sacrificing one of his future lives was worth having her alive again.

“This is what travelling with you did to her,” the Dream Lord told him, now appearing in solid form. The Doctor didn't look at him, didn't see how his expression was genuinely sad. “She wanted to become like you. She did become like you, which sparked her downfall. She took too many risks, seeing you get away with them so many times. And one risk went too far.”

“You’re lying,” the Doctor growled. “This isn't real. It can’t be.”

“Maybe not. But it will be. One day, in your near future, you’ll be forced to stand over her corpse, just as you had to then. Think of all that pain you’re going through right now. Is it so hard to believe that I’m trying to make sure you don’t have to live this...terrible moment? I created that other reality so that you would never have to think like this.” As he spoke, another presence appeared, making the Doctor look up. The Dream Lord smiled at the Clara from the fake reality, gently pushing her towards the man on the floor. “It’s all down to you, Doctor. I’m giving you one last opportunity to see the wonders I’ve made possible. You could live with her forever, without the fear of pushing her too far, without the potential of death standing behind your back like it has done in all of your lives.”

“John,” Clara said quietly, walking towards him. The Doctor stood up, gently placing the other Clara on the floor, and took her hands. “What’s happening here? I’m scared. Let’s just go home. If I did something wrong, I can only try to make up for it. If you feel like you don’t deserve me, then I’ll make it my duty to ensure you see yourself in the same light as I do. I don’t want you to leave me, not when our story is only just beginning.”

“You never did anything wrong,” the Doctor whispered to her. “You were sublime and exceptional and...perfect in every way. My Clara…”

**********

She had a sinking feeling when she found herself on her own, her brain trying to figure a way out of the trap straight away. The Doctor didn't give in to the fear she felt, although the anger was there, bubbling away under the surface. She tapped her fingers against the sides of her head since that usually helped to get the cogs turning but nothing was coming to her. For a moment, she paced around, wondering if some exercise would help, get the blood pumping, get the brain back in gear. Nothing. She bit the tip of her thumb in concern, thinking. The Doctor knew that this was the last throw of the dice for the Dream Lord, a final attempt to get them to fall for his ploys. Most people would believe that showed his weakness, that he was no longer a threat, that he was about to be on the verge of defeat. But she understood better than most who he was and that meant she knew he was at his most dangerous when his back was pressed up against the wall. The fact that he was willing to put her in an obvious trap, the last thing anyone should ever do, told her that he was desperate for victory. 

“Jo? Is that you?” a shaken voice asked from behind her and the Doctor closed her eyes in uncomfortable grief as she realised what this trick was going to be. Yaz was walking towards her, the one from the other reality, so very much alike but still with an inherent innocence within her. For a second, the Doctor almost believed she was Jo and that they were about to go out on a date or spend an evening together. Whatever this purgatory was, she wanted out of it as soon as possible. “What are you wearing? Is it a costume or something? I’ve never seen you in it before.” Yaz admired the sight in front of her. “I like it. It’s funky. It’s...you.”

The Doctor had to ignore the look the other woman was giving her, the one that screamed loyalty and dedication. It hurt to gaze at her face for too long, knowing that she was going to fail her eventually. “Don’t you see where we are?” she asked, trying to use as harsh a tone as she could muster to deter Yaz, to make her go away of her volition. “This isn’t real. None of it is. We’re in an empty pocket of reality, a pocket between universes. You wouldn’t understand any of that and yet you stand there, nodding your head, like it’s the most normal thing to happen. Don’t you see how strange that is?”

“Of course I do,” Yaz answered with a small, nervous laugh. “But if there’s one thing you’ve taught me, it’s to not be frightened so easily. You gave me the strength to do the things I didn't think were possible. You gave me the courage to believe in myself. I am beyond petrified right now but I know that I’ve got you here to help me through it.”

“Stop talking like that,” the Doctor ordered angrily. “I’m no hero. I’m not the person you think I am, on a number of levels. And stop looking at me! It makes this harder than it should be.” She turned her back on the only other person with her in this realm. “Stop it. Just stop it.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder but she refused to turn her head. Yaz was right behind her, so close that she could feel her breath on her neck. “I see that same fear in you too. I always have. You try to hide it, Jo. You bury it deep within you, masking it with fake smiles and false pretences. But you really believe you’re not good enough. You think you don’t deserve anyone and I don’t know why that is. I don’t know who hurt you in the past but your present and future is with me. And, now you have me, I can tell it’s not just that you’re scared that you’re not going to be good enough for me or that you’re going to let me down. You’re scared because you feel that I might not care about any shortcomings you have. You’re scared about having me by your side forever because forever can be so fragile at times.” Yaz forced the Doctor to look at her, holding her face in her hands. “We grew to know one another so much in such a short space of time. Just think how close we can get over years and decades. You’re scared of being so close to someone. You taught me not to be frightened and now it’s my turn to play that role for you.”

The Doctor couldn’t stop staring at her, getting lost in her eyes, believing that what she said was true. She kept reminding herself that it was a lie, that  _ she _ was a lie, but she had seen this Yaz live and grow as a person. How much more real could you get? She was about to say something when the Dream Lord appeared in the corner of her eye, completely shifting her emotions in an instant.

“Those are some sweet words,” he remarked fondly. “When was the last time someone spoke to you so openly, Doctor? It must take a lot of bravery, admitting your feelings. Then again, you’ve never had that sort of bravery within you, have you? It’s true, you can risk your life, stand up against the oppressors, and save the day, which is its own kind of bravery. But you’re the greatest coward when it comes to the matter of your hearts.”

The Doctor moved away from Yaz to stand right in front of him, her face inches away from his, contorted into an expression of anger at his words and sadness at how true they were. “Are you having fun with this little game? Manipulating her to say exactly the right things, trying to make me choose that life. It’s not going to work. I expect you to show me the other Yaz too, my Yaz, and she’ll act as your puppet just as much as this one.”

The Dream Lord tutted, shaking his head. “Dearie me, you’re even angrier than your former self and that takes some doing. You got really good at hiding your emotions, I must give you credit for that. Let me address your concerns. I didn't tell your  _ friend _ to say anything. That came solely from her heart. You can’t fake a love like that, you built it up inside your head and now it’s too much to bear, so much so that you can’t actually believe it’s real. Do you hate yourself that much?” He paused, waiting for a response that never came. “As for the other Yaz...well, I can’t do anything about that.”

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked, immediately worried about her companion’s safety.

“I mean...she’s gone. Or will be gone. It’s difficult to keep up with tenses, I find. She idolises you, I think you know that. Deep down, it feeds that ego you deny having. It made you feel important and special. But, the problem is, it drove her to do things she never should have. Trying to impress you with daring feats of courage. Eventually, she’ll go too far and she’ll get hurt. Her family will get hurt too but the pain will be centred on her, let me tell you. And that idolisation will turn to rage and bitterness, that love will melt away and be replaced with abject hatred. In the end, you will destroy her very soul by keeping her with you. The Yaz that stepped inside your Tardis will never be seen again because of your selfishness. I wonder if your conscience can handle doing that to yet another person? How many lives have you changed for the worse?”

He walked around the Doctor, enjoying how her posture was slack now, visibly defeated. He’d gotten inside her head, his favourite place to be. “Now, look at that Yaz you have with you here. That will never happen to her. No matter how long you spend together, you will never hurt her in the same way. So you’ve got a decision to make, Doctor. You either continue travelling across the universe and risk ruining her life, or you can finally settle down and get exactly what you’ve always wanted.” He watched as her head was bowed, her eyes closed. “Have you made your choice?” The Dream Lord smiled when she nodded her head sullenly. “Good. Then we’ll begin.”

The Doctor opened her eyes only for her vision to be obscured by an expanding white light.


	21. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes must be said as one reality disappears forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get the tissues ready!

It had been a pleasant evening. One of their favourites for a while, they had to admit. That was mainly because it had been so carefree. They’d sat around the dinner table, enjoying the meal Grace had prepared for them, sticking to their unspoken rule to mix up who cooked at the cafe and at home. Ryan had been incredibly nervous about seeing his grandparents since it had been such a momentous occasion. Introducing the girl you liked to your family was always a big deal and he’d just wanted to survive the ordeal with no awkward stories being swapped or personal questions being brought up. To be fair to them, Graham and Grace had only shown Bella five photos of him as a baby in the bath, which was a lot lower than was normally the case. The strange thing was that he couldn’t exactly remember planning this meet-up, which should have concerned him more than it did. It should have been the first clue as to what was really happening here. As they’d eaten and talked casually, Ryan had been shooting Bella reassuring looks to make sure she was okay. He intended for this to be perfect, refusing to admit that perfection was a difficult thing to pursue. But, whenever he did glance at her, he’d be met with the sight of her smile and he’d be reminded that maybe he was trying to reassure himself more than her. 

The plates and cutlery washed after the meal, the evening had become even more casual. Graham had proposed they play a board game of some kind but Ryan had quickly stopped that idea from happening, not really wanting Bella to see just how competitive he got sometimes. Instead, they’d just continued to chat. In essence, it was more of a polite interrogation, especially coming from Grace, who had wanted to know every little detail about Bella’s life. Ryan had been surprised at how open she’d been with them all, revealing facts about herself that even he hadn’t known. They’d shared laughs, had maybe one too many drinks, and had enjoyed themselves immensely. It was strange to think that this was what he had been looking for in his life, this family. This was a support network that would have continued to grow and become stronger over time. Bella was someone he found himself easily talking to, like no one else he had ever met, and the fact that she got on with the two most important people in his life...well, he couldn’t have asked for more. Which made what had to happen next even more painful.

Graham smiled at the people around him, starting to stand up. “Should I get you all some more drinks? Or snacks? We’ve got plenty of crisps in the cupboards. Grace doesn’t really let me eat them often because she thinks they’re just empty calories.” He leant over to Bella, covering his mouth with his hand. “But she doesn’t know that I sneak downstairs at night to have some without her knowing.” He giggled like a little child but stopped when he felt Grace’s hand on her arm. He looked back at her, seeing a sad smile on her face. “What is it, love? I was joking about the crisps, don’t worry!”

“It’s not that. You need to sit down because...well, it’s time we dealt with the elephant in the room.” Something in the air had changed, the atmosphere that had been so jovial transforming into something much darker. Graham glanced at the others, noticing how Ryan was frowning in confusion just as much as he was. He did as he was told though, taking his seat right next to his wife. Her eyes conveyed an overwhelming heartache and it worried him a great deal. “Do you remember why you’re here?”

His face scrunched up even more. “What are you talking about? Of course I do! I’m not that old yet. We’re here to meet Ryan’s new girlfriend...I mean friend...who is also a...girl. I mean, yes, I know why we’re doing this.”

Grace’s expression only saddened at his words. “You’ve forgotten. That’s alright, it can be quite difficult to remember things across transdimensional pathways.”

“Transdimensional...pathways? How do you even know how to say that? Hold up, how do  _ I _ know how to say that? It’s not really something you slip into casual conversation.”

“Graham O’Brien, you stupid old man,” she said fondly, drawing him closer. “You came here to say goodbye.” She paused as she watched his face drop. It was as if the veil had been lifted and he could see clearly again. He was no longer the Graham of this world but the Graham he was supposed to be, no matter how much his heart had urged him not to go back. Ryan appeared to be going through the same thing as he listened to their conversation, unconsciously gripping Bella’s hand tightly, staring into her eyes and looking for an answer, getting only one. Grace hadn’t wanted this burden to fall onto her but, when it came to how Graham’s soul worked, it was always going to be dictated by the woman he loved. The only person he would truly listen to when he wanted to turn deaf ears on the world. “You had a choice. A horrible, twisted choice. You could have stayed here forever and given in to your true desires. Or you could have done the right thing and abandoned this reality. As much as it hurt both of us...there was only ever going to be one decision you could make.”

“But...why am I here? Me and Ryan...if we’d made that choice...wouldn’t we have ended up back in the Tardis?” His hands were shaking as he refused to accept the cold truth. Why did he have to keep going through this unbearable turmoil? What had he ever done to deserve to lose her multiple times?

“I don’t know precisely. I guess...you couldn’t live with yourself if you let it end like that. You never got a proper goodbye the first time, it was rushed and frantic. Your mind wanted to rectify that and here we are. We have all the time we need. Finally.”

“No,” Ryan said, shaking his head, staring at the woman next to him. “I wouldn’t have made that decision. I wouldn’t have been that stupid. What have I got in that other world? Everything has been taken from me or has left me at some point. But, here, I have it all. I found you, Bella. Against all the odds, we were drawn together. Surely that tells you what my mind really wants.”

She placed a warm hand on the side of his face, no disappointment in her eyes, just acceptance and...was that pity he could see? “We found each other because the Dream Lord wanted us to. He directed everything in this world, no matter how much he said you controlled subconsciously. He could see that what happened to me was something that affected you deeply and he used that against you, to try and make you stay. But that doesn’t take away from what we had here, the extra time we got to spend together.” Bella noticed him try to look away, avoiding the reality that faced him, so she forced him to keep eye contact. “You go on about not having anything in the real world but you know that’s a lie. You built a new family. Are you saying that you love the Doctor or Yaz any less just because they’re not related to you by blood? Of course you don’t. You need to cherish that shared love and hold onto it tightly forever.”

“And you’ve got me,” Graham added, his smile lacking its usual humour. “Always. I’m not going to leave. Why do you think I chose our reality? I can see it now. It’s like a fog has been lifted from my mind. I didn't want to let you down. I didn't want to fall into that category of other people in your life because I want to do better. Once we leave here, just remember that I will always support you, even if my constant, nagging presence gets on your nerves.” He tried to laugh at that but his heart wasn’t really in it.

“But Graham...you’re making it sound as if I’m the only reason you’re leaving this behind!” he argued strongly. “I don’t want to be the cause of you missing out on this, to be the reason why you lose nan. I don’t want you to look at me one day and just feel resentment.”

“Don’t be absurd. I could never feel that way towards you. As for missing out...me and your nan had the greatest five years together we could have ever had and I will never trade that away. Sometimes, you just have to be grateful for what you got, no matter how brief it is. That’s what life is about and what makes it so precious, the fragility of it. Your nan would want us to live our lives whilst we can, instead of surrounding ourselves with the past.”

“It’s...just...it’s going to hurt. Letting go,” Ryan finally admitted, bowing his head. He felt Bella’s hand in his and he gripped it with all of his might.

“It was always going to be that way,” Grace told him. “Saying goodbye to loved ones, it’s the most difficult thing that a person has to do.”

“But I know you can do it,” Bella assured him, kissing him on the cheek. In any other circumstances, he would have blushed brightly but he just savoured the feel of her touch. “And, as long as that head of yours remembers us, we’re not actually gone. People live on in memories just as vividly as they existed in life, it just depends on the strength on the person remembering them. And I know how strong you are, despite what you may think.”

“How...how do we do this then?” Graham asked. “Do we simply...close our eyes and wake up in our world? Or is there a technical process we need to go through?”

“What’s the rush?” Grace said, smiling. “The world hasn’t ended just yet. Why don’t we just savour this extra time we have, so that you have something to properly remember us by?” And, for the time they had left, they forgot their sadness and did exactly that.

**********

They sat together in the apartment, the blinds closed. Their heads resting together, they allowed themselves to enjoy the peace whilst they could. The silence before the storm. Now they knew what was coming, it was almost comforting to a certain extent. Or as comforted as they could feel in a time like this, when heartbreak was around the corner, the only certainty that faced them in their future. But all they could do was make the most of it, spend time in one another’s company, praying that the memories would last after it was all over. It was strange that it was destined to end like this, cut off from the world. How much of Jo’s life had been spent running around, helping people, putting others first, always thinking about preserving and progressing her career over prioritising having a personal life? Too much, perhaps. Maybe she would have changed things. Maybe this never would have happened if she’d been different; it could have meant they’d chosen to stay. Was it actually her fault that their own world was crumbling? She didn't want to think like that, knowing it helped no one. It was possible that, only because she had had such a busy and hectic life, she was able to appreciate what the woman next to her had done for her.

Yaz had no idea about the thoughts running through Jo’s head, no idea that she was facing the same conundrums as her. She had never thought about having a personal life over a professional one, despite the comments and protestations of her family. It had always been about becoming a police officer and then rising through the ranks, which she had begun to accomplish. That was even after meeting Jo, the lesson being that maybe she could have had it all if she’d been braver. Now, all of that hard work and progress was being thrown away and there was nothing she could do about it. Though...was it going to waste? Or would she learn from this and apply it in the other life? Was this the push she needed (and it was an awful shove to receive, the ugliest of wake up calls) to take the plunge with the woman that looked exactly like her partner here. Would she call that woman her partner too? Or was that an impossibility? Was she being forced to settle for less by her own mind? If there were no romantic entanglements in her future, did that really mean that her life was worth less? Surely the wonders she would be returning to would more than make up for that. Yaz looked at Jo, a sad smile on her face, and wondered whether any amazing sight would be as magical as her face, as her eyes staring directly at her.

The only light they were getting came from the lamps around them, shrouding them in a soft, warm glow that made the situation feel even more intimate than it already was. Yaz leaned in closer and captured Jo’s lips softly, savouring the feel of them. They intertwined their arms and somehow drew themselves closer together when they’d thought that wasn’t physically possible. Their kiss became desperate as they realised that it could be their last. It was almost an unspoken challenge, wondering which of them would break away first, which of them would bring everything to a bitter end. Yet, when they eventually parted, slightly panting and their cheeks tinged red, there wasn’t as much sadness there as they’d expected. Yaz stared into Jo’s eyes and, for a second, there was a gleam there that came from the  _ other _ woman. It sent a shiver down her spine as the ramifications hit home, that maybe there was still a spark to be salvaged in their reality. How much of them now was from this world and how much came from their actual home? Their minds were tangled and combined like a web; did that mean that it had been just as much the Doctor kissing her then as it had been Jo? The thought was exciting and frightening in equal measure, even though she felt like she was cheating on Jo by having these fantasies.

Jo sensed the confusion radiating off of Yaz, hugging her tightly. “I know this is difficult. But we both made this decision voluntarily. We were both faced with two possibilities and we both made the same choice. If that isn’t evidence enough that this is the right thing to do, or at least the lesser of two evils, then I don’t know what is.”

Yaz shrugged. “Can you really be that sure. Is that Jo speaking or...the Doctor? Surely a Time Lord would overpower a human mentally so has Jo been given a say in this? Or is she left screaming into the void for all eternity?”

“Yaz,” the other woman said, placing a hand on her knee to reassure her. “Jo never existed. Not really. She was a figment of our imagination. Sitting here now is a way of letting her go...for the both of us. She was a dream that we wanted desperately to be real but we thankfully came to our senses. I’m losing her just as much as you are.”

Yaz stood up angrily, walking away, standing by the window that was obscured by the curtains. She stared quietly at the material, wondering what was happening beyond them. “How can you say that and not show a flicker of emotion? Jo was so...expressive and willing to talk. That’s what I’m losing. Someone to have a proper conversation with. Someone who doesn’t hide away from that fear. Is there a little bit of Jo still there, wanting to show herself?”

“Would you want that?” Jo (or was it really the Doctor?) asked, walking to stand next to her. “Would you rather travel the universe with someone like that? Would you want someone different?”

Yaz looked at the floor sadly. “I just...don’t know. My life...my  _ real _ life...was transformed by your arrival. You’re the greatest person I’ve ever met. And yet...I still feel like I hardly know you. When people spend time together to the same extent as we have, they naturally learn things about one another. Not basic facts like where they’re from and stuff like that but who they really are. What they enjoy, what they dislike. What makes them the person they are. With us, it has been infuriatingly one-sided so far. How long can I go on, pining away for you with no glimmer of it leading somewhere?”

Jo’s heart felt like it had shattered as she listened to Yaz speak, seeing how she had failed her. It was her turn to avert her gaze to the ground. “I haven’t always been like that. I used to open myself up to everyone I met and it invariably led to unimaginable suffering. Even when I tried to stop myself from showing my emotions, I would always eventually crack and that was when the pain was even worse. So, I changed. I vowed that, this time, I would remain slightly detached so that, when you leave me, whenever that may be, it won’t hurt as much. Or so I pray. Becoming Jo...it gave me the opportunity to abandon that for a while, to realise how good it felt to properly connect with someone. Even now, all I want to do is run away with you, fleeing this nightmare forever. That’s what Jo wants. But that part of me never wins.”

Yaz shook her head. “You can’t live like that forever. Living without love and friendship isn’t truly living at all. You would be the first to admit that.” She looked at her companion in a melancholy fashion. “And, if I know you, you would be devastated whenever one of us leaves, no matter how close you got to us. So, really...you’ve been making these sacrifices with no clear benefits.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe, once we leave this place, I’ll be able to change. But I can’t guarantee that. I can’t know for certain whether I’ll just revert to the way I have been because, in a sense, it’s all I know now. So this is your last chance. You could stay here, with Jo, and know for sure that you’ll be surrounded by the love you deserve. Or you could risk it all for a life of adventure but you’ll have to wait and see if I can get better at...all of this.”

“Who’s asking me? Is this Jo? Or the Doctor?”

“Both of us,” she said with a smile. “It has always been both of us who fell for you from the moment we bumped into you, whether that was on the street or on a train. One of us just had the nerve to say that.”

“The fact that you just said that tells me that you’re not a lost cause just yet,” Yaz said, bumping her shoulder with hers. “I made my choice before I came here. Like you said, this is just a way of saying farewell. But maybe we’re saying hello too, properly this time.” She held out her hand formally. “Hello, my name is Yasmin Khan. I’m an aspiring police officer who left everything behind to see the universe.”

The Doctor hugged her instead. “Hello. I’m the Doctor and I’m the one who is going to show you the universe.” When they broke away, she put her hand on the blind, preparing to open it before Yaz put a hand on her arm. 

“Are you sure you want to open that? There’s no going back after that, when we see what’s outside. We won’t be able to ignore it blissfully.”

“I think I don’t want to delay the future any longer.” The Doctor pulled open the curtain to reveal a dark city skyline. The streets were empty with no cars or people milling about. There were a few skyscrapers in view but, beyond them, there was only a foreboding darkness. They looked up at the sky and saw how there was nothing there either. “The stars have gone out. There was a time once when I feared that more than anything. Now...it means we can go home.”

**********

Clara was nervous, having no idea where he was taking her. She shouldn’t have agreed to it really, normally preferring to be in control of any situation she faced. Yet, with the uncertain future they were facing, there had been hardly any chance of her turning him down. There weren’t many things in the world that were worse than seeing him pout like a little child. She shouldn’t have been that anxious since she knew she trusted him implicitly. And she understood what was going to happen, no matter what they did. This was a goodbye, she couldn’t ignore that. That infuriating part of her brain kept reminding her of that. Clara couldn’t escape the fact that this was her last time in this world. It was dying around them, fading from existence. It was like when you woke up from a dream, the details of it quickly slipping from your mind before it got preserved into your memory. 

John lifted the blindfold that was covering her eyes as he brought her to an abrupt stop in front of a small hill right in the centre of London. That was a generous way of putting it really, with the city slowly disappearing. It was hardly like the capital of old. Buildings were gone, the people nonexistent. The facade of reality had dissipated all of a sudden, which was almost too jarring for them. It brought home the irrefutable point that this life had been a lie. He wasn’t real, despite how much he felt he truly was. A small part of him wanted to scream and shout at the injustice of it all, that he had been shown his other existence but he could never experience it properly. The magical world that he had been denied, that he had chosen to save over his own. All because of the woman in his arms, who he knew belonged there more than here. And maybe, if he was lucky, he might live on within this  _ Doctor _ somehow. An occasional thought or action that the alien wouldn’t be able to fully explain before realising that it was actually  _ him _ who had done it. It was something to cling onto, if not a real likelihood.

When her eyes adjusted to the brightness, Clara quickly realised what destination he had planned for them. It was her favourite spot of the city, near the quirky house that shouldn’t have existed. It had been the location of one of their many dates, possibly one of her top favourites. Somehow, it was still here, against the odds. Everything else was vanishing but this special spot was clinging on. She could have cried if she hadn’t wanted to keep her emotions in check, wanting to appear strong in the face of adversity. She held onto John’s arm as he led her up the gentle slope. When they reached the top, she spotted a picnic basket set up, on top of a blanket. An old radio sat nearby. John had evidently planned this beforehand, which she didn't know how was possible. She wasn’t going to question it though; this was one time where she could allow herself to enjoy something.

“You did all of this...for me?” she asked quietly, smiling up at him through teary eyes. So maybe she wasn’t going to stay in control of her emotions. “It’s wonderful. The perfect way to…” She didn't want to say ‘end’, as if that would make it final, permanent, irreversible. Was there a tiny part of her that still didn't want it to finish? Of course. It was just that more of her had wanted the other life over this. Did John know that she had made that decision? Had he made the same choice too?

John understood what Clara was struggling with so didn't push her. In truth, he wouldn’t have been able to deal with it all if it hadn’t been for the other man’s mind mixing with his own, two very different personalities temporarily put together. He scratched at the back of his neck, feeling like he didn't deserve a lot of praise. He would have done anything for her if she asked so really this was nothing. He also knew that the Doctor would do anything for her too, a promise he hoped he kept. “It wasn’t a lot of effort. Everything kind of appeared exactly when I needed it. I guess this world still has some surprises left in store. It’s just making me think how we didn't see it in the first place. We turned a blind eye to everything out of place.”

“Because we wanted to believe it was true, I know. And...I don’t regret that. I’m happy that, for a short while, I was able to live in ignorance,” Clara said firmly, truly believing that. In the other world, she abandoned any hopes of living a  _ normal _ life and, although she wasn’t terribly sad about that, it had still been an amazing gift to experience it one last time. It was probably strange to describe it as a gift, with how torturous it had been at times. This was just another unexpected development, she guessed. “Anyway, you soon started to see the little details that were wrong so this is down to you.” She had added that last part with a smile before she had seen his expression turn sad at her words. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you hate me for that?” he asked in a whisper. “Do you wish that I had never noticed the house and things like that? Would you have preferred me to ignore it, put it to the back of my mind? If I’d done that, we probably could have lived here forever.” He looked around at the still disappearing cityscape. “Am I to blame for our world being destroyed?”

Clara could hear the heartbreak in his voice and settled him down on the blanket, holding him close. “You did everything you could. You couldn’t have lived on here once you knew what was happening. We would have been trapped here forever if it wasn’t for you, no matter how good of an existence that might have been. You saved both of us and I will never resent you for that.”

“We’ll both disappear. Just like the city. I can feel his presence in my head, waiting to take over.”

“Perhaps we will. But maybe there’s a chance they’ll remember us and use what we did to live even more. We’ll be a part of that. For now, all we can do is appreciate what we had and hope they appreciate it just as much.”

“Even now, I can understand things that I shouldn’t,” John told her. “The fact that this place is the centre of our reality because you created it. We’re in the eye of the storm, the last things to leave.”

“Then we should count ourselves lucky,” Clara put forward defiantly. “Because we get as much time here as we can possibly get. Now, I want to put an end to this moping so we can enjoy this time. So, stuff your face full of food and smile for me, John Smith.” 

He did as he was told, laughing slightly at the fact that her bossy attitude didn't seem to be going anywhere. They lounged on the blanket together for what felt like hours, snacking on the food he had brought, sipping wine. They allowed themselves to enjoy each other’s company, sometimes intimately, sometimes swapping stories that they now realised were just as fake as they were. Eventually, the slither of sun they had been basking in disappeared, never to be seen again and the jovial atmosphere around them went with it. 

“It’s growing dark,” Clara said sadly, realising what this meant. “I guess time is catching up with us. I don’t know what we do now. Do we just...sit and wait for something to happen? Will we close our eyes one second and find ourselves in the other world?” She was about to admit that she was frightened but it was obvious from her expression. They both were scared but they could claim some bravery by having one another by their side.

John stood up, surprising her. He didn't say anything, instead walking over to the radio. He turned it on, a soft, gentle tune wading from it, filling the darkening sky with music that was at odds with what was happening. “I think...we dance. I want you in my arms until I can’t do that anymore. So, Clara Oswald...will you do me the honour?” He held out his arm expectantly, although there was still a minuscule part of him that was nervous she would say no. Even now, when he was the only option she had. He would have laughed if it had been at all funny.

“It would be my pleasure.” Clara took his arm with a grin and they swayed to the music, ignoring the buildings disappearing and the stars blinking out of life. They just focused on each other’s faces, imprinting the memory for what good it would do. They laughed as he twirled her, her skirt billowing in a breeze that wasn’t really there. The darkness came and swallowed up the city, leaving only their hill intact. It was silent and more gentle than a world ending should have had any right to be, only the music providing any noise now. And they carried on dancing until the darkness finally consumed them too.


	22. Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Tardises being near each other is never a good thing so the two groups must say goodbye, as new adventures lie in store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! What a lovely story it's been to write as well. I hope you've enjoyed it just as much as I have.

They were on the hill once more, feeling renewed and fresh. The brightness around them was a shock to their systems compared to the blackness they’d just been surrounded by. It felt like no time had passed and yet it also seemed like they’d lived for an eternity since being in the same spot. The heartache they all felt was a dull pain in their chests as they got used to this reality. For most of them, there was still the ghost of a tear on their cheeks, the only physical reminder of what they’d just experienced. Clara reached out her hand, lacing her fingers with those of her Doctor. He looked down at her in worry, wondering whether she was okay. She sent him a small, reassuring smile to answer his question, even if she knew that it would be a long time before she fully recovered from the hurt she was feeling. Near them, the other Doctor was the one to reach out for comfort, clinging to Yaz’s arm in a show of intimacy that was unusual for the Time Lord. To her companion, it was a sign that maybe some truth had been spoken, that things might change in the near future. In the silence of the moment, Yaz rested her head on the Doctor’s shoulder, an unspoken promise that she was prepared to stand behind what she’d said in the dream world. Behind them, Graham took one look at Ryan and hugged him tightly in relief, the younger man not even feeling any of the embarrassment that he usually did when his granddad got emotional. It felt like they’d taken a large step together, accepting Grace’s death but realising that that didn't mean she was completely gone.

“So...once again, you chose this world,” a defeated voice said. The Dream Lord was with them too, his face set in a deep frown. He stood motionless in front of them with his hands in his pockets, the only movement being his tweed jacket in the gentle breeze. “Should I call it a victory for yourselves? Judging from your expressions, I’m not so sure.” He smiled then, although there was no happiness in it. “You could have had everything you’d ever dreamed of. I created that world based from your own imaginations, your own desires...and you turned it down. Maybe then...I never stood a chance against your stubbornness.” He walked slowly towards them, their bodies still recovering from the transition leaving them lethargic to respond. “Be that as it may, I’m not a sore loser and I accept that I have been...defeated. You were worthy opponents and I look forward to when we next...face off.”

The Thirteenth Doctor took offence at that, her expression dark and angry. “Fat chance of that happening. If I ever see you again, I’ll make sure to destroy you right from the off.” But the Dream Lord, with one final smirk, vanished into thin air, increasing her frustrations. “No! Oh, I hate it when he does that!” Her fists were clenched as she waved her arms in the air, some of the energy returning to her body. “So rude. I don’t know where he gets it from.”

“Is that it then?” Graham asked. “Is it over? I’m not going to wake up in another universe again, am I? Because it doesn’t half take it out of you.”

“No, that’s it. He’s gone. But he’ll be lurking somewhere. He never leaves me. I’m not that lucky.”

“You’ve never really told us why he was so obsessed with you,” Yaz pointed out in curiosity. “How did he know so much about you in the first place.”

“Because he takes advantage of people’s weaknesses,” the other Doctor replied. “He manipulates the aspects we don’t care to admit to having. And some people have more darkness within them than they like to acknowledge.” He shared a look with his future self, the others wondering what was being said in their unspoken interaction. “Which is when those people cling onto others, to anchor them back to the light.” He looked down at Clara fondly, his eyes thanking her for being there for him. 

“What do we...do now?” Ryan awkwardly asked. There was no precedent set for what to do when you’d bumped into a different version of your friend. He glanced back at the Tardises to see if they’d survived the whole ordeal; they seemed in better condition than the people who travelled in them, that was for sure. “Can we just fly away? Or is the Tardis still broken?”

“Oh no,” his Doctor said with a smile, as she patted her blue box affectionately. “The Dream Lord didn't have enough power left to still control them once we battered through his reality. There’ll be a few grumbles on take off but nothing that I’m not used to.”

“Is it weird that I’m rather glad to hear that she doesn’t change her ways over the years?” her younger self commented with a wry smile. “After all, the majority of the fun comes from the unpredictable nature of our ship.”

“Or...maybe you could try and learn how to fly her properly,” Clara proposed with a cheeky smile, nudging him playfully as he scowled at the insult. “Or, even better, let me fly her more often and we might actually end up where we want to. Don’t forget, this all started with you crashing into yourself, which really shouldn’t be possible.”

“I’ll patiently remind you that I did nothing wrong. I parked the Tardis safely, it was her who almost flew into us.”

“Excuse me,” Thirteen interrupted indignantly. “It’s not my fault that you parked it in exactly the worst spot!” She stood up to Twelve before looking towards Clara. “And don’t worry, you definitely learn how to fly a Tardis on your own. No more spoilers though.” As she spoke, she used a fake smile to hide the sadness eating away at her, knowing that the Tardis her Impossible Girl would end up flying wouldn’t be the old blue box they both loved. 

Clara smiled excitedly, not detecting a sorrow in the other woman. “So I eventually wear him down, do I?”

“I think you know by now that it doesn’t take a lot for you to get your way with him. Or me, for that matter, but let’s not get into that just yet.” She glanced back at Yaz, who didn't look incredibly impressed that she might have been flirting with someone other than her. “Let me tell you this for certain, he’s incredibly happy that you travel with him so, when he has his moments and mopes around grumpily, try and remember that.”

“I do not mope around grumpily!” he argued strongly, although he knew he wasn’t going to win the argument. The Doctor simply shook his head, wondering what he had done to deserve to be on the receiving end of Clara  _ and _ his irritating future self. 

“Who would have thought that they would both bicker so much,” Graham said, enjoying watching the baffling interaction. 

“I definitely expected it,” Yaz answered, Ryan shaking his head in agreement. “I don’t like talking to myself in my head so I don’t even want to think about doing it in person.”

“And that’s forgetting we’re talking about the  _ Doctor _ ,” Ryan added as he leant against the Tardis. “They tend to annoy most people they meet, usually the people in charge. So the fact that they annoy one another...yeah, it’s not surprising.”

“I heard that!” both Doctors said in unison, before they looked at one another in annoyance at the echo. But then their frowns turned to begrudging smiles as they appreciated the absurd nature of the moment, as well as the fun they normally had when they met other versions of themselves.

“We really need to start meeting one another in circumstances that aren’t threatening or deadly,” Twelve said. “What has it been now? Time Lords, Zygons, Sontarans. We never do catch a break.”

“Be honest though,” Thirteen responded. “We’d both be bored if there wasn’t  _ some _ danger every so often. And I might have to admit that I...enjoy seeing old faces from time to time. I definitely wouldn’t want it all the time, don’t get me wrong, but it’s important to remind ourselves of our past.” She stared at Clara for a moment with an unreadable expression before turning her head to look at Yaz. “I need it sometimes to remind myself of how I should act, why I keep people around me.” She nodded her head, as if she were confirming something to herself. “Don’t forget that,” she told her previous self, wondering if it would change anything. She could feel that it hadn’t (she should have known that herself would be so stubborn) but it had been worth a try.

“As if I could ever,” Twelve responded. The words broke Thirteen’s hearts again but she made sure not to show it on her face. “If this is the last time I see you, Doctor...then I’m glad I did meet you. It’s good to know that my future is in safe hands.” He walked over to the Fam, relative strangers to him but he still strangely felt like he knew them like old friends. “And it’s a relief to know that I don’t lose my knack for choosing the right people to go on adventures with. Keep an eye on her for me.”

He shook Graham and Ryan’s hands before turning to Yaz. For some reason, she found herself tearing up as she realised that she was going to lose this insight into the Doctor’s past before she had taken advantage of it. “It’s been rather strange meeting the white-haired Scotsman she told us about. But now I can see why she’s so brilliant if she came from you.”

“Look after her for me,” he said with a warm smile. “And don’t give up on her just yet. We usually take some time to open up but, once we do...well, you’ll hopefully see.” He smiled once more before heading towards his Tardis, stretching out his hand towards Thirteen who was waiting for him. 

She took one look at it before deciding to shrug it away, wrapping him up in a hug instead. “Thank you,” she whispered quietly. “You won’t know how important you are to me when I look back. So...thank you.” She awkwardly untangled herself, leaving him to process that information as well as deal with the sudden intimate contact, and went to hug Clara too. She kept her emotions in check as he relished the familiar feel of having the small woman in her arms. “And you, Oswald...I can’t say much without letting slip details that would unravel the entirety of time but...don’t forget to pop by when you have the chance. I’ll always have the Tardis doors open for you.” Building up strength that she hadn’t had in the past, one thing she had regretted, the Doctor kissed Clara softly on the cheek, lingering longer than she should have.

Clara’s eyes were misty as they broke apart, a hand ghosting over the spot where her lips had been. She smiled sadly as she realised that this was a goodbye (it hadn’t hurt as much with the Tenth incarnation but maybe that was because she now knew that this version had lost her). Her Doctor put a comforting hand on her shoulder before leading her to the Tardis. They waved to the others as they stepped inside the time machine, closing the door on the future as the box began to disappear. 

The Thirteenth Doctor turned to the others and smiled encouragingly. They could tell that she was upset at saying goodbye but they knew not to press it straight away. That would come later, once they were on their way again. For the Time Lord, she knew that Yaz especially would want answers for her behaviour and, strangely enough, she didn't feel the same trepidation or fear at the prospect of addressing her emotions. Maybe there would be progress after all.

**********

Content was probably the word he would use to describe himself in that moment, something that rarely happened across his lives. It was comforting to see and feel the Tardis moving freely through space, although he definitely planned on not stopping in the vortex again since it would likely result in another crash knowing his luck. The Doctor watched fondly as the time rotor moved up and down periodically, a soft groaning noise being emitted. Meeting his future self had raised some of his fears once again, worry at what the years had installed for him. That would pass eventually; he would end up forgetting the specifics of what had been said once time healed itself and the paradoxes closed. That was for the best, especially since it meant he could enjoy the time he had with Clara without fretting about it ending. In truth, that wasn’t likely to happen. Whenever she was by his side, a small part of him always thought about how her presence was fleeting and fragile. It was just the way his brain worked sadly. The curse of the Time Lords - mastering time meant you also knew that time eventually ran out, no matter how much you resisted it. The upside of that was that it spurred him on to make the most of having her with him. And with their exciting revelations now out into the open, the possibilities of what the future held were even greater.

He strolled around the console, occasionally patting the machine affectionately. He wondered where Clara had gotten to, probably making sure that her room was still in the same condition as she had left it. Her absence gave him some time to think, mainly about himself. The Dream Lord’s return had been wholly unexpected and an unwanted reminder of what he was capable of. It had made him face the darkness within him, the sort he tried to ignore most of the time. Was that why he had been so tempted with the prospect of becoming John? Not just because it ensured more time with Clara but also because it meant he didn't have to carry those burdens around anymore? The choices he’d made throughout his life would have made anyone repugnant but it was always down to him to make those decisions. It wasn’t a job he had chosen, more falling into it like he fell into every other situation. But that was why he kept people around, since they often reminded him that there were other ways of dealing with things. And, when there was no other option, they were always so good at consoling and reassuring him. Who would have thought that the big, mighty Time Lord depended so much on a guiding hand? And Clara was the best at it, always knowing the right words to say and when to say them. He didn't tell her that enough, how thankful he was for her help and friendship since they’d met. 

It was as if she had been summoned by his thoughts, wandering into the console room with a happy smile on her face. For a moment, with the Doctor not knowing she was there, Clara took the opportunity to watch him move. It was almost like a perfectly choreographed dance, the way he waltzed around the console, flicking switches and taking in readings. How many times had he done this tango? Too many to count probably. This was when he was in his element, when no one was watching. When he could be himself, not the fabled hero people expected him to be. She was lucky enough to have seen both sides to his character and she knew which she preferred. He was a lot softer than he claimed to be, less grumpy, more affectionate. Especially when it came to his magical blue box. It would always be him and the Tardis in the end, outlasting any of his companions. The thought wiped away the smile on her face for a second as she thought back onto her meeting with the other Doctor. They had obviously parted in her timeline, which was always going to happen. But the fact that it had been inevitable had never made Clara accept that it would come to fruition. Running into the future version made it a cold fact, unmovable. She could no longer fight the realisation that travelling with him (or her) would eventually end, no matter how that came to be.

Despite that, she smiled once more, walking over to him. She wasn’t going anywhere right now. It could be a lifetime before any of that happened and she was tired of being dictated by fear. That was a main reason why she had chosen Danny, not just because of love, but because he wouldn’t disappear like the Doctor often did. In the end, the former soldier had done just that, symbolising how life never allowed you to make the easy choices, never rewarded you for playing it safe. So she had thrown herself into being with the Doctor and maybe now she could  _ be _ with the Time Lord properly. That was definitely exciting, if not extremely terrifying. But, then again, life with him always was. And she wasn’t about to complain about that. With his back to her, she quietly approached, wrapping her arms around his torso (startling him, though he pretended to not be shocked at her sudden appearance) and placing her head on his shoulder. 

“There you are!” he exclaimed and the thought that he had been patiently waiting for her sent a warm feeling through her body. “Where did you get off to? Anywhere thrilling?”

“I was just checking that nothing had been lost,” she replied. “All the important things. My room, the library, the swimming pool. I’m sad to report that I think the hot tub has gone though.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” he said with a pout. “The Tardis would have started to eject rooms to conserve energy. I never did use the Jacuzzi as much as I should have. There was that time with Marilyn and Frank Sinatra but I can’t go into too much detail about that.”

Clara narrowed her eyes at him. “I can’t tell whether you’re being serious or making one of your jokes that aren’t remotely funny.”

The Doctor moved away from her, stepping towards the monitor. “You wound me, Oswald. My marvellous wit is known throughout the universe! People would pay to watch me do stand-up or a lecture - I still think I should look into being a professor for real.”

“You’re also incredibly modest,” she pointed out with a grin, not giving him the satisfaction of telling him she secretly enjoyed his awful jokes and awkward humour. 

“Why thank you,” he replied with a courteous bow. “It’s nice to hear you finally compliment me after all these years. I was going to say something eventually but I was slightly afraid.” His expression turned nervous when he saw her raise a curious eyebrow at his confession, Clara being excited at having that power over him. He quickly decided to move on, not wanting to go down that line of thought. “Anyway...the Tardis is all set and ready to go at your command. What would you like your destination to be? I’ll try my best to be accurate for a change.”

“So, I’m in charge? My, Doctor...you admit you love me and, straight away, you’re giving me all the control. I didn't expect it to be so easy but I can’t say that I don’t like it.” She sauntered around him provocatively, enjoying the way his eyes followed her with every step. Oh, she could definitely get used to this. “What about somewhere romantic? Do you do romance? Does space have anywhere like that? I’ve never really considered it because I never thought that you’d…” She stopped herself from talking, realising she was about to unleash a whole can of worms with her hidden insecurities from the past. She noticed that he was no longer looking at her, instead having his eyes fixed on the floor. “What’s wrong? Is it something I said? Was I being too full on? I was just messing with you, getting carried away. It’s the first time I’ve been able to fully appreciate what we said and what we did and…I’m excited. I can admit that.” Her grin fell when he didn't say anything back. “You don’t...regret it, do you? Are you having second thoughts? I’d completely understand if you did...maybe I’d be a little bit hurt but…”

The Doctor closed the distance between them, holding her face gently before quickly bringing their lips together. When they parted, she could see a bit of fear in his eyes, which she hadn’t expected. “Are you sure that you want to continue this?” He gestured between them, not really knowing how to describe it. “It’ll put you in even greater danger and what the Dream Lord said was right. This can’t last forever.”

Clara held his hands firmly, trying to make him see how passionately she felt. “Nothing in life does but that just makes everything more precious. I’ve made my choice and I want to think that you have too. I’m not going to pretend any longer and hide my feelings. I want to be with you, in every sense of the word. I want the entire universe to know that. Because you are my life now. I know that makes you scared, even if you don’t admit it, because it puts pressure on you. But we can both face our fears together. We’ve done it before. What’s so different about it this time, hey?”

She waited a moment for him to respond. The Doctor stared at her for what felt like an eternity until his face broke out into a wide, bright smile as he looked down at her. He was filled with a giddy energy as he allowed himself to give in this one time. Clara Oswald was worth it. He quickly moved over to the console, entering a random pattern of instructions. “You want something romantic. I’ve got the entire universe at my fingertips. I’m sure I could find something out there that’s up to your expectations.” He nodded his head towards the dematerialisation lever. “Are you ready? There’s no going back once you say yes. There’ll be no getting rid of me.”

Thinking about what lay in store for them, Clara felt more excited than she had ever done. It was greater even than when he had returned on Christmas and they had reunited. This just felt right, like everything had finally come together. And they had all the time in the universe to make the most of it. She hardly gave it a second thought as she pulled the lever down, setting the Tardis away on a journey they both couldn’t wait to start.

**********

She couldn’t remember whether she had ever been in this room before. She definitely thought she would have remembered it. As soon as she had stepped inside, it had been like cutting herself off from the universe. It was silent inside, the walls coloured a mix of deep purples and blues. There was nothing inside apart from a plump sofa that matched the rest of the interior. It wasn’t going to win any awards for amazing design but it felt like exactly what she needed right now. Yaz had been wandering the Tardis with her emotions all over the place. Why couldn’t she allow herself to be happy just this once? They had won yet again, against all the odds. It had seemed even more challenging this time but, still, they had prevailed eventually. And, even better, the Doctor had seemingly admitted she wasn’t opposed to exploring what their relationship could hold. But then Yaz had seen how she interacted with Clara, the immediate connection they’d shared, the instant hugs and touches. What Yaz was feeling was more than just mere jealousy; it was more primal and angry because she felt like she wasn’t being treated the same way as the Doctor’s previous companions. Had she done something wrong to cause the distance that was usually between them? Was there really that much distance when she thought about it? If the Time Lord was closest to any of them, it was definitely her. So was she just over analysing this and not giving the Doctor the time she had asked for to grow comfortable with her emotions? In that sense, she really wasn’t portraying herself in a flattering light, being impatient and impulsive.

That was when she had stumbled across this room. At first, Yaz had wondered whether to just leave because it didn't seem at all remarkable from first view. But it had seemed to draw her in, to tell her that she could spend some time in here and think. She never got time to do that on the Tardis regularly so maybe this was exactly what she’d required. Her thoughts had quickly turned to the main source of concern, the blonde woman that always occupied her mind. She was probably off tinkering with another of her gadgets (she had mentioned something about wanting to make another clockwork squirrel after seeing her old face, whatever that meant), busying herself so that she didn't have to face her feelings. That was unfair of her to think like that, Yaz had scolded herself silently. The Doctor had explained in their final moments in the dream world how difficult it was for her to grow close to someone but she had vowed to at least try. For all Yaz knew, everything could change instantly and they would be flying about the universe as space girlfriends, if that was the accepted term. It was just that her brain never allowed her to think that positively, to believe that it would all turn out alright. Could she change the fundamental way her mind worked? Maybe escaping the other reality was the push she needed to try, just like the Doctor was trying for her.

As she sat there, lost in thought, she didn't notice the door open slowly, a concerned face appearing into view. When the Doctor spotted Yaz, she felt an immense sense of relief, having not known where her companion had wandered off to. The Tardis could be the worst type of maze when she wanted to be. Although it was silly how worried she had been since Yaz had proven to be more resilient than even she had known herself. She was strong and independent so the fretting was probably not especially necessary. Both about her getting lost and taking a chance with the...other thing. It had been all the Doctor had been able to concentrate on, mainly after seeing Clara once again. She had been a reminder on what she was missing out by closing herself off. Yes, the heartbreak at losing her had been immense but, now she had the memories back, there was no part of her that wished that none of it had ever happened. Things start again and that’s always happy. That was something she had said once, wearing  _ that _ face, so it was probably time that she started to listen to herself.

Nervously, she walked over to the sofa, gently touching Yaz on the back so as not to startle her too much, which failed drastically. The younger woman basically jumped out of her skin, making the Doctor wince in apology. Yaz smiled despite herself, patting the space next to her for the alien to sit down. The Doctor did as instructed, wringing her hands once she had done so. Why did it feel so awkward to be with her now? Was that going to be the new norm now? Or was it just down to the fact that too much was still left unsaid?

“How did you find me?” Yaz asked curiously, mainly because it started a conversation that wasn’t about what they both wanted to discuss.

“I was planning on looking all over the Tardis for you,” the Doctor replied. “Which might have taken me years but you’re worth the trouble.” She paused to smile at Yaz, who blushed, both of them feeling like awkward teenagers on their first date. Though this definitely wasn’t a date, just two friends hanging out like they always did. “But then I thought about this place and knew that, if you were anywhere, it would be here.”

“I didn't even know this room existed. How have I missed it for so long? Is it like some sort of contemplation room? Oh, maybe for a bit of meditation when you’re feeling stressed?”

“Definitely not meditation. I tried that once and I was too good at it. I didn't wake up for twelve years. The monks had presumed I’d died or something, which gave them quite a shock when I emerged.” She grinned at the other woman, who just filed it away as another unbelievable story that was probably true. “This is one of the most important rooms in the Tardis, barring the engine and console rooms. And the library, and the games room. Anyway...this is where I go to think when I need some time alone. Constantly running to different places, saving people...it takes a lot out of me sometimes. And, since I’ve had this face, I’ve noticed that I’ve had to deal with plenty more troubles. I have to take moments to process things, otherwise I’d be a complete mess. Although I already am.” 

Yaz hit her on the arm, shaking her head, which made the Doctor laugh slightly at how defensive she got. She hadn’t told anyone else about this room before. It was like a secret she didn't want others to know, as if the fact that she couldn’t deal with everything head on was a slight on her character. But it had been so easy to let the words fall out when she was with Yaz, which should have told her everything she needed to know. “The fact that the Tardis allowed you to find this room tells me two things: she really does quite like you, and you must have been doing some thinking yourself. Do you want to tell me what about?”

“Nothing really,” Yaz quickly dismissed, averting her gaze so she didn't have to see the Doctor’s disapproving look. It was rather obvious that it was a lie but if she started talking, then there was no telling what she’d let slip. Maybe that was the perfect thing they needed. “It was just that...I’ve never heard you talk about Clara before but she seemed really...important to you.”

“I don’t talk a lot about any of my former companions,” the Doctor pointed out. “Mainly because it usually hurts to remember where I went wrong with them. Whenever someone new walks in through those doors, I try to see it as a fresh chance to do better, which means I like to forget about the past. But, you’re right, Clara was very important to me for a very long time.”

“Did you...did you love her?” Yaz managed to ask, taking a big gulp as she did so.

It didn't take long for the Doctor to nod her head. “I did. I really did. You could see it in his...my...eyes as he looked at her. We both tried to ignore it and, in the end, we were too late by the time we were brave enough to admit it. Maybe that’ll change now with what’s happened. Time can be rewritten.”

It was exactly what Yaz hadn’t wanted to hear, although it was what she had expected deep down. “Do you still love her?”

“Yes, I think I do. I can never move on from people, no matter how hard I try. If she were to walk in here right now, I’m sure those feelings would immediately resurface.” She stared directly at Yaz. “But that doesn’t mean I’d consider replacing you. The advantage of having two hearts is that you can love twice as much as most people. That’s normally my curse but it can be very useful.”

“You just said that you...um...you know...me...um.” Yaz’s brain was effectively shutting down. “Was that just a slip of the tongue?”

“No, I don’t suppose it was,” the Doctor reassured her with a smile, even though she was feeling just as nervous as Yaz. Maybe she had misread everything and that had been the worst thing to say. “I’m tired of living in fear. The universe doesn’t owe me anything, I’ve come to learn that, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t give me something truly wondrous.” She leant over slowly, giving the other woman enough time to back away if she wanted. But, when she didn't, she captured her lips in an innocent kiss, their first in this world. It felt even more euphoric than when she had been Jo. “When I went into your mind, I saw how you feel. I didn't know how I could have been so blind to it. Maybe I wasn’t and I’ve just been lying to myself. The question is whether you still feel the same.”

When they emerged into the console room, Graham and Ryan shot up from where they had been sitting, the former with his arms crossed. “Now, where have you two been? We’ve been waiting to get going. I thought about trying to fly it myself but realised we’ve been through enough trouble as it is.”

Ryan looked at Yaz carefully and noticed a glint in her eyes, which immediately gave him a clue as to what they’d been doing. He nudged Graham with a roll of his eyes. “We don’t want to know what they were up to, especially with your innocent mind.”

Graham’s face scrunched up in thought as he tried to figure out what his grandson was going on about before his eyes went wide. “Oh. OH! Now I get it.” He sent two thumbs up at Yaz as discreetly as he could, which made her hide her face behind her hands out of embarrassment.

The Doctor just tried to ignore the boys’ comments, although she couldn’t wipe the giddy smile from her face. She walked over to the console, bending over to press the necessary buttons to get the Tardis ready. “Right, Fam...I think the Tardis has been in one place for far too long. We should let her stretch her legs out a bit. What about an extended holiday? There’s a plant called Litorius that’s made entirely out of beaches. What could possibly go wrong at a beach?”

They were going to explain to her the basics behind the  _ Jaws _ franchise before they gave in, laughing as they stepped towards her. They placed their hands on top of another’s and pressed the lever down.


End file.
